


Burn

by savesoulpunk



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Blood, Burns, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 34,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savesoulpunk/pseuds/savesoulpunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Patrick could think was "burn".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Patrick P.O.V. 

"Saturdayyyy!" I belted the last note to our encore. Man, the crowd was amazing tonight. They're singing every word along with me. That's one of the best feelings in the world. 

"Thank you, guys! You were fucking awesome! Good night!" Pete said into his mic. 

I waved at the crowd one more time, then walked off stage. I put my guitar in its case and turned around to see Joe standing behind me, startling me. I jumped and he laughed. 

"Fuck you, Trohman," I giggled, throwing my fedora at him. 

He threw the hat back. "I don't want your sweaty hat, Stump," he laughed back. 

I laughed again and started walking to the bus. I passed some fans on the way and took a few pictures and sighed a couple autographs. I still don't understand why they want my signature. I'm just like them. I've just accepted it now. 

I opened the door to the bus and stepped in. Andy was already on the couch, watching some 80's horror flick. 

"Hey, Patrick. Man, that was a great show, wasn't it?" Andy said when he saw me. 

"Oh my god, that crowd was so amazing. I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight. I still fell that high you get," I replied. 

"Same, 'Trick," Andy said. 

We weren't staying in a hotel tonight. The bus was taking us to the next city tonight. That meant I had to shower on the bus. Damn I hate showering on the bus, but what can you do?

As I was in the shower, I started thinking about how lucky I was. There are thousands of bands that tried but never made it. But, somehow, here I am. I'm in an award-winning band with my best friends in the world with millions of fans who love us. 

Holy shit, I don't deserve all this. But I'm so grateful. 

I stepped out of the shower and dried off. I slipped into my Bowie shirt and some pajama pants. 

I walked out of the small bus bathroom and saw Pete on the couch next to Andy. Andy saw me and quickly said ,"Dips on the shower next!"

He shot up and ran to the bathroom. Pete and I laughed and I slumped next to him. We sat there for a while while Andy was in the shower. Pete's eyes started to droop and I nudged him. 

"Hey, Pete. Don't fall asleep, you're still sweaty and disgusting from the show," I said, nudging him off me. 

"Hmm..." Pete mumbled in response. 

I chuckled. "Fine, Pete. But you're going to regret not showering tomorrow. You know how hard it is to shower on a moving bus."

Andy was out of the shower and sleeping at this point. Pete grumbled and shuffled to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

Just then, Joe stumbled into the bus. He started to say something but I cut him off. "Shh, Andy's already asleep."

He nodded and collapsed onto the couch, exhausted. I yawned. "Well, Joe, I'm tired. See you tomorrow," I said. 

"Alright, 'Trick. Night," Joe said. 

I walked to our bunks and slumped into mine. As I was drifting off to sleep, I felt the bus lurch forward. My last though as I drifted to sleep was, I'm a happy little man.


	2. Chapter 2

Patrick P.O.V. 

I woke up to screaming.

I jolted awake, almost hitting my head on the ceiling of the bus above me. I looked around and saw Pete standing up, looking as confused as me. Joe and Andy wore the same expressions.

I realized it was our bus driver screaming. Suddenly, the bus lurched right and we all shifted sideways. I rolled out of my bunk and landed with a thump on the ground. Hard. 

Pain shot up my side and I felt Pete helping me up. "What the fuck is happening?" He shouted, trying to be heard over the screams of our driver and and squeal of tire on asphalt. 

I looked toward the drivers compartment, where the screaming was coming from. I made my way over to it and leaned in. What I saw, I will never forget. 

The entire front of our bus was on fire. Red white flames licked up the metal. As my eyes traveled up, I saw why there was so much screaming. 

Our bus driver had flames sliding up his legs. The skin was an ugly red and pink, blistering his legs like bubbles. 

He had tears falling from his eyes and shouts for help erupting from his mouth like a volcano. I wanted to help him, but I didn't know how. 

I knew I had to do something. If I didn't, Pete, Joe, and Andy would be dead. I ran back to our bunks and ripped one of the curtains from the rod, earning a few confused looks from the guys. 

"Mark's on fucking fire", I shouted and ran back to the drivers compartment, not waiting to hear their responses. 

I pulled Mark out of his seat and started hitting his legs with the curtain. The fire finding their way up his legs subsided, leaving him crying and whimpering in front of the door that led to our bunks. 

Suddenly, the bus lurched right again, much sharper than last time. I fell sideways onto the ground. I hit my head on the wall hard and saw black spots. 

I saw that the door had slammed closed as well. I stumbled over to it and tried to open it. It didn't budge. 

Smoke was starting to fill the small room. I started coughing from the smoke entering my lungs. My asthma did nothing to help. 

The bus lurched again and realized no one was driving. I stumbled to the driver seat and grabbed the wheel, not daring to touch the pedals and meet the same fate as Mark. 

I tried to focus on the steering wheel. But that proved difficult. My eyes were watering from the smoke, and at this point I couldn't stop coughing. And I felt a sticky substance leaking down my face. I touched my cheek and looked at my hand. It was coated in red. 

I put all my focus on keeping the wheel straight. I managed to do that. Slowly, the bus came to a stop. But not fast enough. 

The entire dash was on fire. I saw a flame jump at my arm, desperate to grab on. I jerked away, but not quick enough. The orange flame found its way to my wrist and didn't let go. A pain like I had never experienced before took over. 

I screamed. I shouted my god damn head off. I was on fucking fire, the lyrics becoming a bit too literal. 

I ran to the door, tripping over Mark's unmoving body. I started banging on the door with my hand that wasn't aflame. 

I heard pounding on the other side of the door and muffled shouts of "Patrick!"

"Help, Pete! It fucking hurts so bad!" I pleaded. 

The flames were quickly licking up my arm. The white hot pain only worsened. I couldn't stop screaming. 

I started to see black. I saw a dark tunnel around my vision. 

I stopped banging on the door, not having enough energy to continue. I heard my band mates shouting my name. But they started to fade. Everything was fading...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, I'll update as often as possible. I have a bunch of chapter pre written, so I want to get those up. Hope you like it, let me know <3


	3. Chapter 3

(This is basically Pete's P.O.V. from the last chapter)

Pete's P.O.V.

Patrick was knocked out of his bunk and I heard a thump. I helped him up and he groaned in pain. 

"What the fuck is happening?" I shouted. 

Joe and Andy shrugged, but Patrick looked toward the driver's compartment, where we heard the dreadful screaming coming from. 

He had a look of fear but determination in his eyes. He made his way to the door that lead to our driver. I wanted to shout after him, but the bus kept jerking side to side. I couldn't form words. 

Patrick leaned into the compartment and I saw his body stiffen. He quickly ran back and ripped the curtain off Andy's bunk. What the fuck is he doing?, I thought. 

"Mark's on fucking fire!" He shouted. I was confused for a moment, then I felt the heat. 

Our bus was on fire. And we were inside of it. 

Patrick was already back in the drivers compartment, hitting Mark's burning legs with the curtain. I saw black smoke billowing around him. Flames were licking up the dash of the bus. 

I started to walk in his direction, trying to keep steady from the bus's sudden jerks. Suddenly, the bus lurched sideways really hard. I was thrown into the couch. 

But I saw Patrick thrown into the wall and the door slammed shut. 

"Patrick!" I shouted. I looked back for a second and saw Joe slumped against the floor, a bruise blooming on his cheek. Andy was leaning over him. 

Andy looked up at me. "I got him, you get Patrick!" He yelled. 

I nodded and ran to the door. I tried to pry it open, but it wouldn't budge. I started banging on the door, desperate to get it down. 

I felt the bus gradually come to a stop. But the nightmare wasn't over yet. 

I heard the most horrible noise that had ever reached my ears. 

Patrick's screaming echoed throughout the bus. I felt banging on the other side of the door. I was vaugely aware of Andy helping Joe out of the bus and talking to 911. 

The only thing that mattered right now was me and Patrick. And there was a door between us.

"Pete, help! It hurts so fucking bad!" Patrick screamed, muffled by the door. 

Holy shit. What happened? 

Suddenly, the banging on the other side of the door stopped. I heard a slump, like someone was falling against the floor. "Patrick! 'Trick, buddy, stay with me!" I shouted. 

I started ramming my shoulder against the door. I did this several times until it finally gave way. 

Smoke came rushing out of the room, punching me in the face. I was stunned for a moment, then pulled my shirt over my nose and stepped in. I felt my feet hit something and looked down. 

Our bus driver, Mark, was unconscious on the ground. I hooked my hands under his armpits and pulled him out of the bus. I screamed for Andy to help him before running back inside. 

At this point, almost the entire drivers compartment was on fire. I tentatively stepped in, seeing Patrick huddled in a corner, barely conscious. 

Patrick looked horrible. He had blood gushing out of a wound on his head, staining his hair and cheek. His eyes were watering profusely. He was weakly coughing from the smoke, not able to do much more than wheeze in his state. His skin was a light grey color. 

Then my eyes traveled off his face and I noticed the real problem. His arm had flames hungrily traveling up it. They were almost at his shoulder. His skin was red, black in some places. The skin was sickly pealing off and bubbling. 

The look on his eyes told me he was in so much pain, so much agony, but he couldn't even scream. He was too weak. 

I snapped out of my trance and grabbed the curtain Patrick used to put out Mark's legs. I quickly started hitting his arm with the curtain. He started wincing and whimpering. I felt horrible and stopped. I threw the charred piece of cloth over my shoulder.

I hooked one arm under his legs. I grabbed his good arm and threw it over my shoulder. I carefully put my other arm under his torso. Then, as slowly and carefully as I could in a small burning space, lifted him up. 

I winced when I saw him biting his lip, drawing blood, to keep from screaming. Tears leaked from his eyes, mixing with the blood that was now covering his face. 

As I was walking out of the small door way, his burnt arm brushed against the wall. He shrieked and mumbled something I couldn't understand. I apologized and ran out of the bus, not a moment too soon. 

As soon as I stepped off the bus, the engine exploded. I was thrown forward, Patrick flying out of my arms. 

I landed on the ground with a thud. My vision was foggy, all I could hear was a strange ringing. But the only thing running through my head was Patrick. 

In the distance, I heard sirens. I pushed myself up, trying to fight against the dizziness and the pounding in my head. 

I felt someone turn me over and push me down. "No," I said," Patrick..."

An oxygen mask was put over my face. "Sir, we need you to calm down," I heard someone say. 

Calm down?! How can I calm down?! I needed to find out if Patrick was okay! 

That's the last thing I remember running through my head before I passed out.


	4. Chapter 4

Andy P.O.V.

Everything was happening so fast. 

One minute I'm asleep, the next I'm dragging my friends limp body out of the bus. 

When Joe fell unconscious, I quickly leaned over him to check if he was okay. His cheek was turning an ugly purple, but I felt a strong pulse. I told Pete to make sure Patrick was safe before focusing my attention on Joe. 

His eyes fluttered open and he groaned. It was relieving to know that he was at least conscious. 

I felt the bus come to a bumpy stop, then heard Patrick's dreadful screaming. I looked at Pete in horror and he wore a similar expression. 

Pete started banging on the door while I draped Joe's arm over my shoulder. He leaned heavily on me and I walked him out of the bus, dialing 911. 

Once I felt we were a safe distance away, I carefully set Joe on the ground. He mumbled something not intelligible. 

I looked at the bus and my eyes bulged out of my skull. The entire front of our bus was engulfed in flames. 

I spat out at 911 where we were and our situation. They said they would be there soon. Hurry the fuck up, I thought. 

In the distance, I saw Pete drag someone out of the bus. In his arms was our bus driver, Mark. Pete walked about halfway to where I was, shouted something at me, dropped Mark, and bolted back into the bus. 

I ran to Mark and stopped when I saw his legs. They were blistered and charred, pink and black in places. At a closer look, I saw he was unconscious. I hooked my hands under his armpits and dragged him to where Joe and I were. 

I looked back at the bus, willing Pete to come out. Apparently it worked, because just a moment later, Pete came stumbling out of the bus, Patrick limp in his arms. 

The moment they were about three feet from the bus, the engine exploded. I felt a rush of heat and fell to the ground. I looked up and saw Pete hitting the ground. I looked around for Patrick, but didn't see him. 

I finally heard sirens coming our way. The flashing lights stopped and started spraying water on the bus. I had the sense to stand up, so I did just that. 

I saw paramedics huddling over Pete, Joe, and Mark. I heard Pete shouting for Patrick. 

Then I remembered Patrick. Where was he?

I turned in a circle, looking for the familiar boy in my vision. Suddenly, I heard a weak cry for help in a voice I knew all too well. 

I turned around and saw a figure, unmoving, huddled on the ground against the line of trees. I ran faster than I have ever run before, dropping to my knees at his side. His eyes were closed, but he was shivering, despite his arm that looked like it was about to shrivel up and fall off. 

"Patrick, oh man. You'll be okay," I said, trying to convince myself. 

The only response Patrick could muster was tears crawling from his eyes. He looked like he was in so much pain. He didn't deserve this. 

Soon enough, the paramedics were shoving me out of the way. I let them, despite the feeling in my gut that told me I should keep Patrick close. "Patrick," I shouted, "stay alive!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I updated! I'll try to update more often. Hope you like it and give me feedback in the comments. Thanks, ily <3


	5. Chapter 5

Patrick P.O.V.

I was fading in and out of consciousness. 

I could hear sirens in the distance. 

My entire body hurt so much. 

And was that my name?

That was Pete, shouting my name. 

I tried to move, but my body wouldn't allow it. 

I needed to see if Pete was okay. 

I opened my eyes and, once they cleared up, saw blurry flashing red and white lights in the distance. 

Hey, I wanted to shout, please help me. 

I couldn't stop shivering. 

I felt so nauseous, like I wanted to puke my guts out, but couldn't muster up the strength to. 

I felt throbbing, white hot pain shoot up my arm like lightning. 

My head was pounding. 

I felt a dull pain on the right side of my body where I landed. 

That would leave a bruise. 

For a moment, I considered just dying. 

I hurt so much, I just wanted it to be over. 

But then I thought...

The fans...

Joe...

Andy...

Pete...

Elisa...

Declan...

I can't leave them. 

I needed to see my band again. My wife. My son. 

I can't just leave them. 

I mustered up all my remaining energy and a strangled cry for help left my mouth. 

I waited. 

I waited. 

No one was coming, I thought for a moment. 

Then I felt knees drop beside me. 

That was all the assurance I needed. 

"Patrick, oh man, Patrick. You'll be okay," Andy's distant voice said. 

I felt needles jabbing into me and a mask placed over my face. 

Before I fell unconscious, I heard Andy shout ,"Patrick, stay alive!"

I'm trying, Andy. I'm trying. 

I let myself fall into the dark abyss that was unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> give me feedback in the comments, ily <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> leave kudos and comments, thanks for reading! ily <3

Brendon P.O.V.

I'm have a date tonight with Sarah. I'm so excited, I have the whole evening planned. 

First, we're going to go to the park. Not just any park, though. It's the park where I proposed to Sarah and told her I loved her. 

Then, we're going to her favorite restraunt. It's a small Italian place a couple blocks from our house. 

Finally, I'm taking her to see a movie. We love the movies. It's like we're in our own little world. Sometimes, Sarah and I don't even pay attention to the movie. We just kiss and hold hands the entire time. 

Damn, Sarah makes me so happy. I smiled to myself just thinking about her. 

I was getting dressed. I wasn't wearing anything too special, just a pair of black skinny jeans, a black button shirt, and a black vest. I slipped my clothes on and rolled the sleeves up to my elbows, revealing my Sinatra tattoo. 

I smiled at myself in the mirror. I look pretty damn good. 

I had a about 20 minutes until I had to pick Sarah up, so I lounged on the couch and turned a random channel on the TV. 

I wasn't paying attention to the television until I heard a familiar name. Fall Out Boy. 

I turned my head up and started listening. "Fall Out Boy's tour bus caught fire earlier today."

I gasped. Are they okay?, I thought. 

"We are unsure if the band is badly injured, though witnesses say they heard Stump screaming from inside the bus. Witnesses also say they saw bass player Wentz carrying Stump out of the bus before it exploded. Witnesses were unable to see after the explosion."

My skin went cold. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My mouth gaped open, eyes bulging out of my skull. Holyshitholyshitholyshit. 

"We have reporters at the hospital trying to get more information," the woman said to me through the screen. The image shifted to a woman holding a microphone. It looked like she was chasing after someone. I saw a flash of colorful skin and knew what was happening. The reporter was trying to get information out of Andy. 

Leave him alone! I wanted to scream at the TV. Andy was walking fast, trying to get away from the woman. He turned around and I saw a dark bruise on his cheek and purple rings under his eyes. "Fuck off," he said, them turned and exited out of a door. 

I had to get to them. I watched until the woman said where they were and ran out the door. I called Sarah and told her I was picking her up from the spa now. She asked why and I told her I would explain on the way. We had to get a plane. 

*****

Elisa P.O.V.

Usually Patrick called me every day. 

He always loved talking to Declan. We FaceTimed as often as he could, but we at least called and texted every day. 

He texts me good morning, every morning. I don't understand why he wouldn't. 

Something probably came up. I sure hope he's okay. 

After checking my phone, I got out of bed and went to Declan's crib. He was stirring, not awake yet. I stroked his hair out of his face and looked at him. My beautiful baby boy. 

He opened his eyes gently. I smiled and said ,"Hey, Declan."

"Ma...ma..."

"Oh my god! Declan, baby, those were your first words," I exclaimed. I knew he couldn't understand me, but I was so excited. 

Declan giggled and grinned at me, like he was proud of what he had done. 

I grabbed Declan and held him in my arms for a couple minutes. Then I ran to my phone and started texting Patrick. 

To: Patrick <3  
Baby, Declan said his first words! He said Mama. It was the most beautiful noise ever. 

I waited for a response and got none. 

Hmm, something important must have happened. I know Patrick. If he had gotten that text message, he would have responded right away, no matter what he was doing. 

He must not have his phone on him. 

That's weird. Patrick takes his phone everywhere. I was starting to worry. I should call someone, make sure my husband is okay. 

I called Pete. No answer. 

I called Joe. No answer. 

I called Andy. It rang a few times before a very tired voice said ,"Hey, Elisa."

"Andy, is everything okay? I've tried calling and texting Patrick and he hasn't answered," I asked tentatively, afraid of the answer. 

I heard Andy sigh through the phone. "You haven't heard?" He asked. 

"Oh my god, Andy, what happened? Is Patrick hurt? Andy?"

"Elisa... Um... Our bus caught fire." I gasped. "Yeah, we woke up and heard our driver screaming. Patrick ran in there and saved him. Then he stopped the bus..." His voice wandered off. 

"Andy, is he okay?"

"Do you want it the easy way or the honest way?" he asked. 

"Andy."

Andy sighed. "Patrick hit his head pretty hard. They say he has a mild concussion. And the doctors say he inhaled a lot of smoke, which caused something called acute carbon monoxide poisoning. And... his arm, it was badly burned. So bad they say if something happened to it again, they'll have to amputate it. So, to sum up, no, he's not okay."

I was in shock. I almost dropped Declan. The phone wasn't so lucky. It fell to the floor with a bang, echoing throughout the room. 

Patrick, my Patrick. My love. 

I shakily set Declan down and picked up the phone. "Andy, is he going to live?" I asked, scared of his response. 

I could hear Andy's grin, even through the phone. "Yes, Elisa. He'll be in the hospital for a while, but he's gonna live. I mean, his arm's going to be a bit shaky, but he'll be alive. You will see your husband again."

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "What about Pete and Joe? And you, Andy, are you okay?" I asked, a little more relieved about Patrick. 

"I'm fine, just a couple bruises. Joe knocked his head and passed out for a bit,but he's okay. Pete had a couple small 1st degree burns and hit his head. But he'll be fine. We're all scraped up, but alive."

It was good to know that everyone was alive and okay. Andy went on to tell me that once everyone was stable in the hospital, he went back to the wreckage of the bus. He gathered everyone's stuff that survived (including phones and small important things each of the guys had). Andy had seen the text messages Elisa has sent Patrick and decided to call her, but Elisa had called him first. 

"Well, Andy, I'll be on the next flight out. Text me the hospital, okay? Thanks for letting me know," I said. 

And said goodbye and hung up. I called a few more people, becoming exasperated when no one could watch Declan for a couple weeks. 

I was overwhelmed. I collapsed on the floor, sobbing. I was crying into my arms when I felt small hands playing with my hair. "Ma...ma... Mama..." I heard my son say. 

I lifted my heard off the ground and cracked a smile. Declan could always make me smile. 

I picked him up and fed him, eating breakfast myself. I called the airlines and booked two tickets. I had to take Declan with me, no one could watch him on such short notice. 

I put Declan down for a nap and packed a few things. I was only taking the essentials, such as a couple changes of clothes for us, toiletries, my phone charger. 

I woke Declan up and drove to the airport. I took a deep breath. 

I'm coming, Patrick. I'm coming.


	7. Chapter 7

Third Person P.O.V

Joe woke up to a throbbing pain in his head. 

His vision was blurry and he was dizzy. Once his vision cleared up and his head stopped throbbing, he took in his surroundings. He saw a white room and a lot of medical supplies. And, in the corner of the room, he saw a tattooed man with ginger hair. 

"Oh my god, Joe," Andy said, then ran and enveloped Joe into a hug. Joe wrapped his arms around Andy tight, glad to see his best friend was alive. 

They finally pulled away and Joe asked ,"Well, I'm glad to see you alive and moving. What about Pete and Patrick?"

Andy sighed. "Pete is okay. He's got a couple bruises and 1st degree burns, and he's just resting right now. And Patrick, well..." He trailed off. 

Joe raised his eyebrows. "And Patrick what?"

"He's pretty bad, Joe. He'll live, but he's fucking hurt. He hit his head and has a mild concussion. They had to do seven stitches on his head. He inhaled a lot of smoke. That caused something called acute carbon monoxide poisoning. I know it sounds bad, but the symptoms aren't all that bad. I researched it while I was waiting. He's just going to be miserable..."

Joe looked into Andy's eyes and knew he wasn't telling him everything. "What else, man? I know you, I know you're not telling me the full truth."

Andy sighed again. "His... uhh... his arm. It was burned up pretty bad. They had to do skin graphs. The doctors say there's only a 20% chance he'll be able to use it again."

Joe processed this for a moment. "Holy shit... Trick is gonna be heartbroken. He'll never be able to play guitar again. He loves music. This is gonna break him..." Joe pondered. 

Andy sighed once again. It was starting to annoy Joe. "That's exactly what I thought. Hey, you wanna go see Pete and Patrick? They're both asleep right now. The doctors say you can leave whenever you feel up to it."

Joe was eager to leave. He quickly stood up, but instantly felt a sting of pain in his head. Andy helped him up slower. "You alright, dude?"

"Yeah, just a little shaky is all," Joe replied. "Can I get some real clothes?"

Andy chuckled and ran out of the room. He came back a minute later with a pair of Nike shorts and a Metallica shirt. Andy slipped out of the room while Joe changed. 

Joe walked out of the room and followed Andy down the hall. Andy stopped in front of a room, 322. 

Andy opened the door slowly. They both stepped in. Pete was asleep in the bed. He had a couple bandages on different places in his body, but otherwise he looked fine. Joe walked next to his bed and ruffled Pete's hair. "Hey, loser. Get up," Joe said jokingly. 

But suddenly Pete put his arm over his eyes and mumbled ,"Five more minutes."

Andy ran up beside Pete. "Oh my god, he's waking up!"

Pete slowly opened his eyes. He looked like everything was slowly coming back to him. Then his eyes widened. "Patrick! Where is he?" he said. 

Andy explained everything to him. Pete sat for a moment, thinking. "Damn, he's gotta play guitar. He can't lose his hand."

Andy shrugged. "That's all I've been thinking about. Pete, are you up to go see him?"

Pete nodded quickly, which resulted in him wincing and groaning. "Shit, I gotta be careful."

He stood up (luckily nothing had happened to his legs). Joe and Pete followed Andy to the elevator. "Is he on a different floor?" Joe asked. 

Andy nodded. "He's in the ICU."

They followed Andy through different hallways until they finally stopped in front of a door. Before he opened the door, Andy turned around and said ,"Before you go in, just remember he almost died. He doesn't exactly look good."

They stepped in and Pete audibly gasped. Patrick had an IV in his arm and tubes in his nose. He arm was thickly wrapped in bandages and he had a gauze on his head. And the worst part was that his skin was almost grey. In short, he looked very sick. 

"Oh god, 'Trick," Pete said. 

Joe took one look at Patrick and stepped out of the room. "I'll go get him," Andy said. 

Pete sat on a chair next to Patrick's bed. He grabbed Patrick's hand and felt a tear fall down his cheek. He was overcome with emotion. Patrick did this to himself to save the rest of them. Patrick has given his right arm, and possibly his life, so that himself, Joe, and Andy would live. 

Maybe if I had gone in there first, Pete thought. 

*****

Meanwhile, Joe was back in his room, hyperventilating. He couldn't control his breathing, he was getting really sweaty, he was crying. 

Andy walked in and took a deep breath. He saw Joe having a panic attack. He slowly crouched down and touched Joe's shoulder. Joe flinched, but when he saw it was Andy, leaned into his touch. He pulled Andy into a crushing hug and started sobbing. Andy couldn't help but feel a few tears fall down his face too. 

"H-he l-looks li-ke h-he's d-d-d-dying," Joe stuttered out through his sobs. 

"He's gonna be okay, Joe. The doctors told me. He is going to live," Andy said, his voice cracking at the end. 

"Hey, girls." Joe and Andy looked toward the doorway. Pete was standing there. He walked to the bed and sat down next to them. He threw his arms around Joe and Andy and said ,"Patrick is a fighter. He'll pull through. He always does."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter! give me feedback, ily <3


	8. Chapter 8

Pete P.O.V.

It's been a week, and Patrick still hasn't woken up. 

The doctors put him in a medically induced coma so he could heal. 

He hasn't moved or shown any sign of life. If it wasn't for the heart monitor beside his bed, I would think he was dead. 

I'm starting to lose hope. 

Elisa arrived the day after I woke up. She asked me told hold Declan outside the room while she saw Patrick. She didn't want their son to see his father like that. 

Marie showed up the same day. Her and Joe said they were going out for a bit to get some fresh air. Luckily, their nanny could watch Ruby for a while on short notice. 

Meagan didn't come until a few days later. She wanted come right when I called her, but I insisted she finish her job. She had a shoot in Paris, so Saint was with my parents. Bronx was with Ashlee. 

Brendon arrived first. He seemed really flustered and worried. Sarah was with him, looking very tired and like she had been trying to calm Brendon down since they got on the plane. 

Today seemed like any other day. I was sitting on a chair next to Patrick's bed (where I had been for the past seven days). Andy had taken Joe to get one last check up. Meagan was sitting on the floor in front of me, her head resting on my lap. Elisa was in the corner of the room, Declan asleep in her arms. Marie was at a hotel nearby. Brendon and Sarah went out to eat and get away from the hospital for a bit. 

I was stroking Meagan's hair. We were holding hands. Suddenly, Patrick starting convulsing. Meagan shot up, and so did I. Elisa ran out of the room to get a doctor, carefully setting Declan in the crib the hospital had provided. 

Patrick was shaking uncontrollably. Veins were popping out of his neck. His complexion had gone from grey to a dark pink. He was covered in sweat. 

Doctors and nurses rushed in and pushed Meagan and I out of the way. "He's seizing!" one of them shouted. 

Oh god. 

The doctors put an oxygen mask over his face and stuck another IV in his arm, but Patrick didn't stop thrashing. 

Declan had woken up from all the commotion. He started crying, loud. Like, he was having a tantrum. Elisa shot a worried look at Patrick and went to sooth Declan. But suddenly, Patrick's eyes shot open. He stopped thrashing. His skin tone went back to pale. He looked really confused. He seemed really overwhelmed by the amount of people in the room. 

"D-Declan?" he stuttered quietly, in a whisper. 

Now it was my turn to push the doctors out of the way. I ran to Patrick and grabbed his hand, then pulled him into a hug. One of his arms wrapped around me, but the one wrapped in bandages stayed limp on the bed. I pulled away and Patrick looked at his arm confused. His shoulder twitched, but his arm remained still. He looked at me, fear and confusion in his eyes. 

His doctor walked up and took the oxygen mask off of my friend's face. "Well, Mr. Stump, you gave us quite a scare."

**********

Patrick P.OV.

I was asleep.

Everything ached. My arm still felt like it was on fire. The drugs they were pumping into my body did nothing to help. 

I could hear whispering in the room I was in. Suddenly, the pain in my body amplified. It felt like I was in the fire again. My head felt like it was going to burst and crack open. 

I felt a needle being shoved into my arm and a mask being placed on my face. I could feel people around me panicking. Suddenly, I heard crying. And not just any crying. My son crying. 

I was causing this! I had to stop. I was making my baby upset. It took everything in me to stop thrashing around. I opened my eyes and was surrounded by doctors and nurses. 

I heard my son crying. Where the hell is he?! 

"D-Declan?" I said weakly. It took a lot of effort just to say that. 

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around me. I knew this smell. He smells like leather and honey. 

Pete. 

I tried to throw my arms around him, but only one arms obeyed my commands. Pete pulled away and I looked at my arm. It was wrapped thickly in bandages, and it was still burning. I tried to move it, but it didn't budge. 

What the fuck? Why wasn't my arm working?

A doctor walked to my bed and took the oxygen mask off my face. "Well, Mr. Stump, you gave us quite a scare."

The majority of the doctors and nurses left the room. My doctor, Dr. Evans I learned his name was, explained everything to me. 

Apparently I had something called acute carbon monoxide poisoning... Whatever that is. Also, my arm was out of use for a while and my head was fucked up. 

I didn't really pay attention, the nausea was starting to catch up to me. I tried to focus on the doctor's voice, but my head hurt. My arm was burning. My vision was starting to swim. Suddenly, I felt whatever they had been pumping into my stomach start to come back up. 

"Where's the bathroom?" I asked quickly. 

Pete pointed behind him and I jumped up, not caring about the dizziness or pain. I ran to the toilet and emptied my stomach. Soon enough, I was just dry heaving and loving life. 

Pete patted me back and the doctor looked sadly from the door. "Vomiting is one of the symptoms of acute carbon monoxide poisoning. With the right medication, you should be fine in a couple days," he said. 

"Good to know," I mumbled. 

Pete helped me up and half carried me back to my bed. I laid down, suddenly cold. I started shivering and pulled the blankets over my body. 

I saw Elisa holding Declan in the corner of the room, looking scared. I didn't want her to see me like this. "Elisa, honey, go back to a hotel or something. I don't want you or Dec seeing me like this."

She looked reluctant, but nodded. She walked to my bed and kissed me forehead. "I love you, 'Trick," she whispered. 

I held her hand with my working one. "I love you too, El. Keep Declan safe. I'll get better soon. I promise."

We touched foreheads, then she walked out of the room. I leaned back in the bed, exhausted and in pain. 

Pete sat on the chair next to me. "Pete, please go get some sleep. I'll be fine," I said. 

"No, sir, 'Tricky. I'm staying here until you get better," I started to protest, but he cut me off. "Don't try to fight me, Patrick. I'm. Staying."

It was fruitless to argue, so I just sat back, feeling nauseous again. 

I hope I get better soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so obsessed with writing this omfg. hope you like it <3


	9. Chapter 9

Patrick P.O.V.

I. Am. Death. 

Every since I woke up a couple days ago, I've been miserable. It's like the flu, but amplified. My every waking moment is dizziness and puking. And when ever I sleep, I relive the fire. 

The screams of our driver. The charred flesh on his legs. The horrible, awful burning sensation on my arm. Pete's eyes looking at me like I was a dead man. 

I don't remember the fire very well. The doctors say it's because of the concussion and it'll come back to be soon. But it's coming back to me in nightmares. 

So yeah, life is great!

The only good thing about life right now is that everyone is here with me. Elisa comes with Declan every so often. Joe, Pete, and Andy have officially been checked out of the hospital but are reluctant to leave my side. And Brendon, god, I can't get him to leave my side. He's constantly asking if I'm okay. 

Right now was a rare occasion when it was just me and Pete alone in the room. I was staring at the ceiling, trying to fight back dizziness and the urge to sleep, because when I sleep, that's when the nightmares come. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Pete kept glancing at me. I ignored it, until it became kind of annoying. 

"God, what is it Pete? Why do you keep glancing at me?" I asked. 

His blond head whipped in my direction. "Nothing," he muttered. 

I scoffed. "Nothing, my ass, Pete."

He jumped up. "Patrick! You really want to know what's bothering me? 'Trick, do you see what you did to yourself for us? Here, look."

He grabbed a silver sheet of the table and put it in front of my face. He was right. I looked awful. My skin was a light grey color, and the dark purple bags under my eyes only made it more noticeable. 

"You're miserable. I can tell. You haven't slept for two days, god knows why. You can't walk without me fucking carrying you. You can't use your arm. Patrick, you probably won't be able to play guitar ever again. And you did all this because you saved our lives. Patrick, we would be dead if it wasn't for you. And you're so, so sick." Pete had tears on his cheeks. "I just can't bare to see you like his.

I knew Pete got angry like this sometimes. And the only way to calm him down was to sing to him. I outstretched my arm. "Come here, Pete."

Pete glanced at me again, then laid down next to me. I started singing Pete's favorite song. I felt his angry breaths even out and his eyes closed. He was asleep. Good, he needed it. 

I soon felt myself begin to drift off. No, I can't fall asleep. 

I can't handle the nightmares. I forced my eyes open. 

I started to feel dizzy again. My vision went blurry. The horrible nausea came back. The headaches returned. My arm was throbbing, as was my head. 

I tried not to move. I couldn't wake Pete up, he needed the sleep. 

I let out a whimper. I needed help. I pressed the button to call the nurse. 

A short blond woman came into my room. She glanced at Pete in my arms, then looked back at me. 

"I need some more meds, could you please help?" I said, having trouble talking since my head was swimming so much. 

She nodded and went to the IV taped to my hand. She turned some knobs and my head and arm instantly felt a little better. "Let me know if you need anything else, Patrick," she said as she exited the room. 

My eyes started to close again. 

God, no. Please don't let me fall asleep. 

But I couldn't fight back my heavy eyelids anymore. My eyes closed and the flames returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys comment such sweet things ily. hope you like the new chapter, exciting (and sad) stuff coming up in the next couple chapters yikes ^.^


	10. Chapter 10

Pete P.O.V.

I opened my eyes, feeling well rested for the first time in a while.

 

I looked to see I was sleeping next to Patrick. He had one arm under me. Upon closer inspection, I saw that his eyes were darting around under his eyelids.

 

I untangled myself from his arm and looked at him again. He looked distressed, even in sleep. I heard a small whimper of ,"It hurts..."

 

God, I had to get him out of that nightmare. I lightly shook his shoulder. "Patrick, buddy, wake up." He whimpered, slightly louder this time.

 

"Pete... help..."

 

Fuck. I shook his shoulder again, slightly harder. "'Trick, wake up."

 

"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die," he said quietly.

 

He though he was going to die in that fire, oh my god.

 

Suddenly, he shot up, screaming. I quickly put my arms around him, hugging him.

 

He pushed me away and ran to the bathroom. I went after him and saw him leaning over the toilet, emptying his stomach.

 

I kneeled next to him and patted his back. He leaned back and looked at sadly. "Sorry, Pete," he muttered.

 

"Don't apologize, man. It's not your fault," I responded.

 

He shook his head. "It kind of is. I made the choice to go in there."

 

"But can you tell me why, 'Trick? Why did you go in there? You could have run out of the bus, but you didn't," I pondered.

 

Patrick shrugged. "I couldn't just let Mark or you guys die. I knew I could do something, so I did."

 

Patrick P.O.V.

 

Shit, Pete is asking me about the fire. No, no, no. I don't want to relive it.

 

Every time I think about it, the pain comes back.

 

_(Flashback)_

 

_The burning, hot pain was beginning to worsen._

 

_All I could see was orange and red._

 

_I wasn't aware of Pete banging on the door anymore. All I could think was "burn"._

 

_I dropped on the ground, right on top of my burning arm. I shrieked and rolled over. Luckily, my clothes didn't catch fire. Yet._

 

_I dragged myself to the corner of the room. I was ready to let the flames take me. Pete wasn't coming to help me. No one was. I wasn't panicking. I was in too much pain to feel anything else, including emotions._

 

_"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die," I repeated to myself like a mantra._

 

_My mind started to wander. This reminded me of our song "Death Valley"._

 

_"We're gonna die, it's just a matter of time. Hard times come, good times go. I'm either gone in an instant or here till the bitter end, I never know."_

 

_I'm in a burning fire, I'm dying, and I'm thinking about Fall Out Boy lyrics._

 

_Wow._

 

_Suddenly, I felt someone hitting my arm with with a cloth._

 

_It only made the pain worse, what were they doing?! I wanted to scream, but it was like the fire was sucking the strength out of me. All I could do was whimper._

 

_They stopped hitting me and the pain didn't go away. It was still there, like a monster trying to eat my arm._

 

_Someone's arm hooked under my knees and another one under my back. I felt myself being lifted up. I cracked my eyes open and saw whiskey colored eyes looking back into mine._

 

_Pete._

 

_Pete did come to save me._

 

_He ran, carrying me, out of the bus. My arm hit the door on the way out and it took all of my remaining energy not to scream at the top of my lungs._

 

_We exited the the bus and, not a moment later, I heard a bang and I was thrown out of Pete's arms. I hit the ground and everything went black._

 

_(End of flashback)_

Pete P.O.V.

He told me everything. 

All the pain he was in. 

The thought that I wouldn't save him. 

I helped him back to his bed. It felt like that was all I had been doing the last week. 

He looked like he was going to fall asleep again, but he kept opening his eyes. 

He was trying to stay awake. 

"'Trick, you need sleep. You haven't had a proper night of sleep in two weeks. Why won't you sleep?" I said. 

His tired eyes flickered in my direction. Then he sighed. "Pete, remember when I said I didn't remember the fire because of the concussion?"

I nodded. 

"Well, it's kind of been coming back to me in... nightmares. Every time I close my eyes, I'm back in that bus," he almost whispered. 

Oh, Patrick, what has this fire done to you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thinking of writing a new fic. i have a cool idea for one. should i? let me know what you think and your opinions on this chapter. thanks, ily <3


	11. Chapter 11

Brendon P.O.V.

Patrick seemed like he was finally getting better. 

He has gained some of his color back and stopped throwing up constantly. The doctors were able to take the stitches out of his head, but he had a nasty scar that might be permanent. 

But another thing I was worried about: he had gotten really skinny. Most of what he ate, he threw back up. So he didn't really eat. He had been eating a little more lately, but still not enough in my opinion. 

His arm was thickly wrapped in bandages. I still hadn't seen his arm yet. Patrick had, though. And he wouldn't let me see it. Like he was embarrassed or something. 

"Bren, it looks disgusting. Trust me, you don't want to see it," he had said to me. 

I don't care how Patrick looks. He'll always Patrick, a cute little dude who would take a bullet for someone. 

One day, after almost a month of Patrick being in the hospital, I decided to surprise him. 

Patrick had been pretty down lately. He disappointed about letting the fans down, despite everyone saying it was okay and wishing him well on Twitter. 

He isn't even worried about himself, he's worried about the fans. That's the thing about Patrick. He's literally in a hospital bed, miserable (and stunning, I might add), and he's thinking about the fans. 

So I decided to bring Patrick his guitar to cheer him up. He's always happiest around music, whether it's listening to it or making it. 

I texted Pete that I was at the hospital and to let us in. He opened the door and I saw Patrick looking sad in his bed. "Hey, man. I got a surprise for you," I said. 

His head looked up, but his eyes were still full of sadness. "What?" he said, no real emotion in his voice. 

I grabbed his guitar from outside the doorway and showed him. Suddenly, he sat up and his eyes were bright and happy. 

"There he is," Pete said with a grin. 

I set the guitar in his lap. He placed his left hand in front of the strings, but I saw him looking at the fretboard. Just looking. 

His right hand just lay limp on the bed. Oh shit. 

Pete and I looked at each other. His eyes were full of fear and sadness. I assumed mine were the same. 

We looked back at Patrick and saw silent tears dripping down his cheeks. I moved the guitar and wrapped him up in a hug. Pete joined us. 

I felt my t shirt getting wet with his tears. "I can never play guitar again," he whispered, more to himself than to us. 

I pulled away. "No, Patrick. You just need time to heal-"

"Brendon!" he shouted. "It's been a month. If it's not healed by now, is it ever going to? And my voice has been scratchy ever since the fire. My throat constantly hurts. I'm fucked up. I ruined the god damn band!"

Then I saw doubt in his eyes. "Wait a minute," he whispered. "I was never that good... My voice was always horrible. Fall Out Boy will find a new singer while I rot away in this damn hospital bed." He almost sounded like he was talking to himself. 

Pete pushed me out of the way. He enveloped Patrick in a hug and said ,"Patrick, we will never ever leave you. We would never find a new singer. And we would never ever get a new singer for Fall Out Boy. Patrick, you were my little golden boy. Without you, we would still be in basements. Hell, I wouldn't be alive! 'Trick, never, ever think that we would continue the band if you couldn't."

Patrick let go of Pete and scooted back into his bed. "Pete, I'm not that important. Don't break up just because my bad voice got worse. And I can't play guitar for shit. I'm not worth breaking up over..."

Pete was about to open his mouth and say something, but was cut off by Patrick's heart monitor beeping rapidly. The little line was frantically bouncing up and down. 

I grabbed Patrick's hand. "Patrick, I need you to calm down," I said tentatively. 

He looked at me with wide eyes, then they scrunched up in pain. "Pete, go get a doctor!" I shouted. 

Pete ran out of the room and I took Patrick's face in my hands. "Patrick, look at me."

His eyes were still closed, the pain he was in looking unbearable. "'Trick, look at me, man."

He struggled to keep his eyes open. "Patrick, can you look at me? There you go. Buddy, calm down. Look into my eyes. Focus on me," I said, squeezing his hand. 

Suddenly, I was pushed out of the way by doctors and nurses. They took one look at him and said ,"Heart attack."

Oh my god. 

Pete and I backed up, not wanting to get in the doctor's way. We didn't want to do anything that could... oh god... kill him. 

The fast beeping from the heart monitor suddenly stopped. I couldn't see Patrick from all the people surrounding him, but I'm guessing it wasn't good. 

One doctor started doing CPR on his chest, but the steady beeeeeeep kept sounding. 

The CPR wasn't working. A doctor got an AED from under the bed and stuck the paper stickers on his chest. He said ,"Clear!" and pressed the paddles to his chest. 

Patrick's back arched, but he didn't wake up. 

They did it again. "Clear!" the doctor shouted. 

His eyes stayed closed. 

They repeated the process several times. 

He still didn't open his beautiful ocean colored eyes. 

"Time of death: 4:05 PM."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like it! remember i love feedback in the comments! ily <3


	12. Chapter 12

Pete P.O.V.

No. 

Nonononono. 

No. 

Patrick can not be dead. 

No. 

I ran forward, pushing the doctors out of the way. I grabbed Patrick's limp body and squeezed him against my chest. And I cried. 

One nurse was looking at me. She looked like she had a tattoo peeking out of her sleeve. She looked at me with sad eyes, then sprang into action. 

"Come on, doctors! We can save him," she said. 

Brendon pulled me away from my best friend's dead body. But I resisted. "Pete! If you don't let the doctors near him, he's going to die!" Brendon shouted. 

I finally obeyed. I let Brendon lead me to the corner of the room. I watched the doctors frantically try to get Patrick's heart started again. 

Then, while the nurse was pounding on his chest, the heart monitor started beeping again. Patrick shot up, looking around with wide eyes, then collapsed back into the bed. 

But the heart monitor kept beeping. 

Patrick was alive. 

I was about to sigh in relief, but then everything went black. 

*****

Brendon P.O.V.

Patrick's heart was beating again. He was alive. I don't think I've ever been more relieved. 

I was going to turn and hug Pete, but he slumped against the floor. 

*****

Today was a stressful day. 

Apparently, Pete passed out from shock. The doctors let him lay down in a spare room. They said he was fine, he just needed rest and to lie low. 

Patrick was having a severe panic attack, and that made his heart beat too fast, causing a heart attack. His heart stopped beating and they couldn't get it back started. 

But they did. They did because of that girl. 

I needed to find her, to thank her. 

After Pete was situated in his bed, I went back to Patrick's room. There was the nurse, checking Patrick's vitals. 

I stepped in. Her name tag said "Ashley". 

"Hey, Ashley. I just wanted to say thank you. Patrick would be dead right now if you hadn't said something. So, uhh, thanks," I said. 

She looked at me. "Brendon Urie. I always dreamed I would meet you, but never over an unconscious Patrick Stump."

Huh. 

She saw my confused look and smiled. "Brendon, ever since 2005, I've loved Panic! At The Disco and Fall Out Boy. I've been to 14 Panic! concerts and 9 Fall Out Boy ones. I even managed to find a Soul Punk show in my area. So, honestly, I don't know what I would do with myself if I had the chance to save Patrick and didn't."

She lifted up her sleeve and I saw there was a tattoo on her upper arm. It was the FOB logo. And behind her ear, she had a P!.

I didn't know what to say. "Wow, uhh..."

I write lyrics that go platinum, but my mind is drawing a blank now. 

"Ashley, thank you for listening to our music for this long and supporting us. If Patrick was awake, he would want to thank you too. Just, thanks for everything. Saving Patrick, too. I don't know what I would do if this little man died."

She walked out the door then turned around for a moment. "Me neither." And then she left. 

Patrick didn't look like he was moving any time soon, so I decided to call everyone and let them know what happened. 

I dialed Sarah's number. She picked up on the third ring. "Hey, Bren. What's up?"

"Hey, babe. Can you come to the hospital? Something happened."

I heard her gasp. "Is everyone okay?"

"Everyone is alive, at least. I'll explain when you get here," I responded. 

"Okay, honey, I'm on my way. See you there."

"Bye, Sarah."

I sent a group text to everyone else. 

To: Joe, Andy, Meagan, Elisa, Marie

Come to the hospital, now. Something happened. I'll explain when you're all here. 

I got a chorus of "on my way's" and decided to check on Pete. I walked to his room and looked through the window. He looked like he was stirring. 

I walked in and sat down as soon as he opened his eyes. He looked confused for a moment, then it hit him. 

"Patrick! Oh my god, is he okay?" Pete almost shouted. 

I pushed him back into the bed. "Yes, he's alive. I'll explain when the others get here. Let's to back to his room, yeah?"

Pete nodded and bolted past me to the door. I followed. Soon, everyone was in Patrick's room, looking worried. Patrick looked the same as he did before. Weak. 

"What happened, Bren?" Elisa asked, holding Declan in her arms. God, that woman is a hero. Everything going on with Patrick and having to take care of a baby. 

I sighed. "Well, I brought Patrick his guitar, hoping it would cheer him up. You should've seen the look in his face when I brought it in. He looked like a kid in a candy store. 

"He tried to play but... he couldn't move his burnt arm. Then he started freaking out, saying he wasn't good enough and the band should go on without him..."

Several gasps filled the room. We all knew Patrick was the most talented out of all of us. And we all knew that if Patrick couldn't play or sing, Fall Out Boy would die. 

"Then he started having a really bad panic attack. His heart monitor sped up and he looked like he was in a lot of pain. He flatlined. Then the doctors came in and started to CPR and using an AED. Then they announced him dead."

The room gasped. Elisa had tears on her cheeks. 

"But there was this one nurse. Her name was Ashley. She saved him. Basically what happened was he had a really bad panic attack and that caused a heart attack. His heart gave out and if it wasn't for Ashley, Trick would be dead right now," I finished. 

The room was quiet, except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor. 

Joe stood up and said ,"Marie, let's go for a walk. I need to think."

Marie nodded and grabbed Joe's hand. They walked out of the room. 

Pete was quietly crying into Meagan's shoulder. Elisa was looking at Patrick, thinking. 

Suddenly, Elisa stood up. "I can't do this anymore," she whispered. 

What does she think she's doing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol sorry for the scare last chapter. hope your happy pattycakes lived! i love feedback very very much so let me know what you think! ily <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unlucky chapter 13

Patrick P.O.V.

I slowly opened my eyes. I felt like I had slept for a week. 

I slowly looked around the room. Everyone was staring at me. But different than before. 

Before, they looked at me with care and sympathy. 

Now all I saw in their eyes was pity. 

I sat up, my head spinning. Joe helped me. 

Why do they keep looking at me? I couldn't take it anymore. 

"Why are you guys staring at me? You making me nervous," I said with a worried chuckle. 

Brendon took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to me. I glanced up at him, knowing this couldn't be good. 

On the front of the envelope, Patrick was written in a neat script. I knew this handwriting, it was Elisa's. 

What would Elisa write down that she couldn't tell me to my face?

I shakily opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of paper. And there was something heavier in there. 

I turned it upside down and out fell... Elisa's wedding band. 

No. 

This can't be happening. 

I covered my mouth with my hand. Silent tears fell from my eyes. 

I unfolded the letter. 

Patrick,

I'm leaving you. I'm sorry, but I can't deal with this sickness anymore. I'm tired of the constant worry that I'll get a call saying you died. 

I've decided that if I leave you, I won't have to worry anymore. 

I'm taking Declan with me. I don't want his first memories of his father to be of you dying in a hospital bed. It's for the best. 

Maybe, and that's a huge maybe, if you recover, I'll let you see him again. He is your son after all. 

I'm sorry, Patrick. I will never forget you. 

Elisa

******

Pete P.OV.

I watched silently as Patrick's life fell apart. 

When he finished reading the letter, he looked up at me. 

I don't think I've ever seen anyone look so broken. 

He cleared his throat. "Could you guys le-ave?" He said, his voice cracking at the end. 

I stood up, "No, Patrick, I do-"

"Pete! Please. I just want to be alone," he cut me off. 

I remember after Ashlee left me, I just wanted to be alone. I get where he's coming from. 

"Okay, Patrick. We'll be back in 20, yeah?" I said. 

Patrick nodded. I stepped outside, Joe, Andy, Brendon, Sarah, Marie, and Meagan following me. We walked to the waiting room and sat down. 

20 minutes later, I jumped out and almost ran back to Patrick's room. I knocked and flung the door open. 

But then I saw. 

Patrick wasn't in his bed. I checked the bathroom, he wasn't there either. 

Patrick was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok two things
> 
> 1) I have a deep love for Elisa and know she would never do this. This situation is just for the sake of the story 
> 
> 2) this is all taking place save rock and roll era (2013/2014). It will make sense later for certain songs that will be written/mentioned. 
> 
> Ok that's it. Leave kudos and comments, ily <3
> 
> (also happy birthday to beebo, srar, and sugar. three lights in a dark world :)


	14. Chapter 14

Patrick P.O.V.

My son was gone. My wife was gone. 

I knew what I was doing was a mistake, but I had to do it. 

I pulled the various needles out of me with a grimace. I felt pain hit me and almost collapsed right there. 

Luckily, Elisa had brought some of my clothes when she came here. I changed into black skinny jeans and a blue button up shirt, topping it off with a hoodie. I slid into my boots and peeked out of the room. 

I didn't see anybody, so I stepped out. I sneaked past Pete and everybody to the elevators. I finally stepped out of the hospital for the first time in a month. 

Fresh air hit my face and I went to the parking lot. I hailed a taxi and said ,"Take me to a bar. One far away from here. I need to forget."

******

Joe P.O.V.

Pete was freaking out. 

We asked the receptionist if she had seen Patrick leave, but she said she only saw someone in a hoodie leave. 

Wait a second. 

I ran back to Patrick's room and looked in his bag Elisa had brought near the corner. Inside was the pajama pants and t shirt Patrick had been wearing. And the clothes she brought were gone. 

Patrick left. 

I told the others this and they agreed to split up and look for him in this city. Marie would come with me and the others would go with their partners. Andy would stay at the hospital in case he came back (but I doubt he would, I sure wouldn't).

Marie and I were checking resturants. We had been to every place that sold food in this city. I was beginning to lose hope. 

But then we came upon a very small bar, a long way from the hospital. 

My god, why didn't we think to check bars?

Of course he would go to a bar. 

I quickly dragged Marie into the bar and looked around. Then I saw him. 

"Marie, call the others," I said.

Patrick was slumped in a booth in the far corner. I made my way to him and tapped his shoulder. 

His head turned toward mine sluggishly. "Joooeeeyyy!" he slurred. 

I sighed. "Patrick, we gotta get you back to the hospital," I said. 

"No, I don't wanna go back," he pouted. "I wanna stay here, but the bartender won't give me anymore. He's being mean."

"Tricky, you need the medicine. And god knows what you did to your body by drinking all that alcohol. How much did you have, anyway?" I questioned, a little scared of the answer. 

He counted on his fingers. "Uhh, a lot," he giggled. "I had a looot of shots and whiskey. It makes the bad thoughts go away."

Then he started bawling. "Joe," he sobbed. "Am I completely worthless?"

I grabbed his hands. "No, of course not, Trick-"

"My wife left me! Obviously there's something wrong with me. Other wise, the love of my life wouldn't have left me!" He hit the table and broke down sobbing. 

I moved to sit next to him and put my arm around his shoulders. "Patrick, there's nothing wrong with you. You are the most perfect human being on this fucking planet. There's something wrong with Elisa, not you."

He just stared straight ahead. "I probably won't see my son again. He's the one I care about most in the world. And I can't see him."

I sighed. As much as I needed to talk some sense into him, he needed to get back to the hospital. His skin was really pale and he was breaking into a sweat. And his arm must hurt like hell. 

"Patrick, can I take you back to the hospital? Don't you want to live?" I questioned. 

He looked me in the eyes. "Not really."

I was taken aback. I knew he was heartbroken, but now he's sounding just... broken. 

"That's the alcohol talking, Trick. Come on, let's go back," I said, trying to convince him. 

He shook his head. "No, Joe, please don't make me go back. I'm sick and fucking tired of being hooked to machines and having my meals pumped into me. This is the first time I've seen sunlight in a month. I feel like I'm trapped. I'm stuck in that hospital, and now, even though I'm out, I'm still trapped in my mind. I'm stuck in a never ending spiral of thoughts telling me to off it because I'm worthless and the only person that ever loved me left!" he shouted. 

I quickly put my arms around him. He sobbed into my shoulder and I let a few tears fall as well. How could Patrick think this? 

The bawling slowly subsided. I looked down and saw he had passed out. I turned around and saw Pete and the others running in. He ran to the booth we were in and stopped when he saw Patrick's unconscious, tear stained face. 

We carried Patrick to a taxi. The ride back to the hospital was silent and you could cut the tension with a knife. The air was heavy with anxiety. 

We got Patrick back to the hospital and the nurses helped him back to his bed. 

No one talked. There were so many different emotions swirling through the room. Fear, worry, a little bit of anger. 

Yeah, we were angry at Patrick. He could have talked to us. He didn't have go lose himself in whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whaddya think? ily <3


	15. Chapter 15

Patrick P.O.V.

Everything hurt. 

My head was pounding. I had a hangover and my concussion was still healing. 

I don't remember what happened. The only thing that was coming back to me was a strong sense of hatred towards myself. 

The last thing I remember is sneaking out of the hospital room. 

Damn, I'm going to get some shit for that. 

Everyone is going to be so angry. 

But I don't regret it. 

My wife left me. She took my son. 

The hangover pain couldn't ever compare to the pain in my heart right now. 

I didn't want to wake up. 

But I felt that my body was alive. 

It needed to get up. 

Right now, I feel like my mind is separate from my body. My body is waking up, but I don't want to. 

I want to die.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a bit short, but i might update tomorrow :)

Pete P.O.V.

I can't deny that I'm angry at Patrick right now. 

He could have talked to us, but no. He had to drag himself to a bar. 

I don't want him to get addicted again. I remember that awful month back in 2007 where he wasn't sober for a whole month. 

That was when that girl broke up with him. I can't imagine what he'll do now that his wife left him. 

I remember when Ashlee left me. I wouldn't wish that pain on my worst enemy. 

And I certainly wouldn't wish it on Patrick. 

*****

It was the day after Patrick left. 

I was alone in the room with a sleeping Patrick. I told everyone to go back to the hotel. I needed to have a word with Patrick when he woke up. 

It was midday. 

I heard a groan from Patrick's bed. I looked over and saw that his eye lids were flickering, but didn't open. 

"I know you're awake, Patrick," I said, not hiding the anger in my voice. 

He groaned again. He opened his eyes and slowly sat up, nervously glancing at me. 

Every so often, he winced and had to stop moving for a bit. 

Damn, he's in a lot of pain. 

I almost don't want to be mad at him. 

But he did something wrong. I have to talk to him. 

His eyes suddenly got really wide. I handed him a bucket and he emptied his stomach of the many drinks from the day before. 

He finished and looked at me with pity and regret. 

I snatched the bucket from him and went to the bathroom to wash it out. Once I was finished, I brought it back to him and set it next to his bed. 

He sat in the bed, twiddling his thumbs. The silence filling the room was awkward and brutal. 

"Patrick, what the hell?" I finally exclaimed. 

He sighed. "I would say I'm sorry, Pete, but I'm really not. I needed that-"

"No, you didn't!" I cut in. "Trick, you know I've been there. Why didn't you come talk to me?"

He looked down. "I don't know. I felt like I was worthless. My wife just up and left while I was dead. She took my only son, Pete. I lost the two most important people in my life, all because our fucking bus decided to catch fire."

He looked at me and I saw tears in his eyes. He sadly chuckled, "I needed to forget. I've got some bad thoughts swirling around. Alcohol dulls everything for a while.

"Then I wake up," he continued. "I wake up and I can't even remember what happened yesterday. I hate this addiction, Pete. I just... want to be better. I don't want my first thought when something bad happens to go to a bar and have whiskey take away everything. I want to forget."

I thought for a moment. I really feel bad for him right now. He's stuck behind these walls. Patrick loves music, that much is obvious. His favorite thing is playing shows and getting high off the crowd's energy. Being confined to this silence must be horrible. Patrick doesn't need people to be angry at him right now. 

"Alright, 'Tricky," I smiled at him. "Please, please don't let this happen again. My biggest fear is that I'll find you dead in an alley surrounded by beer bottles..."

He grabbed my hand. "That won't happen, Pete. I promise next time I'll talk to you. Can you promise to be there for me?" 

I quickly wrapped my arms around him. "Of course, 'Trick. I will always be there for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have so much of this written. i hope it doesn't get boring lol. let me know what you think and i'll update soon. ily <3


	17. Chapter 17

Brendon P.O.V.

Patrick was finally getting better. 

I mean, physically. He doesn't throw up anymore and his color has come back. He doesn't have to wear a bandage anymore (his arm was a bit discolored but it wasn't too bad). The doctors say he can go home soon. 

But mentally, that was another story. 

He hardly talks. He constantly writing. I don't think I've seen him without a notebook this past week.

I don't think he sleeps much either. His eyes are rimmed by dark purple rings and I hear him mumbling to himself a lot. 

He's not okay. 

It was the day before he was supposed to be discharged. I was alone with him in the room and he was furiously writing in his notebook. He stopped for a minute and chewed on the end of his pencil. 

"Hey, Bren," he mumbled. 

I looked up. "Yeah, Trick. You okay?" I asked. 

"Not really but... I wrote these lyrics and music for them but they don't feel Fall Out Boy, if that makes any sense. You wanna take a look at them for Panic! ?" he said. 

This was the most he had talked since Elisa left. "Sure, man. Let me see," I said, reaching my hand out. 

He ripped a page out of his notebook and handed it to me. I looked at his messy script and it read:

If crazy=genius, you can set yourself on fire,  
But you're never gonna burn, burn, burn.   
Well I'm a fucking arsonist  
I'm a rocket scientist 

"Wow, Patrick. These are great!" I told him. 

He smiled and said, "Thanks, Bren. You wanna write the rest of the song? I think I have another part for it."

He flipped to another page in his notebook and read:

"She said, "Darlin', you know  
How the wine plays tricks on my tongue  
But you don't seem to change  
When you stuff all of your feelings with drugs"  
Other boys you may have dated  
Serrated your heart with a slice  
But the cut of your love never hurts  
Baby, it's a sweet butter knife."

"What do you think?" he questioned. 

I was blown away. This is going to be a great song. "Wow, that's so great! How about for the first verse 'she dances on a tightrope of weird'?"

He eyes lit up. "Oh!" he exclaimed before scribbling in his notebook again.

He turned it towards me. The words read:

"She said "at night  
In my dreams  
You dance on a tightrope   
Of weird"'

"Shit, 'Trick. Amazing."

An hour later, we had a pretty awesome song. We wrote the lyrics together and Patrick wrote most of the music. 

"I need to hear how this sounds. You want to sing it for me?" I offered. 

He froze up. "N-no, Brendon. My voice isn't what it used to be. It was never good to begin with, and now the fire-"

"Patrick," I said calmly. "One, you have the best singing voice I ever heard. You've got range like no motherfucker knows,"

He chuckled at the old reference. 

,"And two, you probably still have an amazing voice. Have you tried singing since the fire?"

He shook his head. 

"Well then, I guess we'll have to give it a shot. Come on, man. For me?" I gave him pleading eyed and he sighed. 

"Okay, but please be honest. I want you to to tell me if my voice is bad," he said reluctantly. 

He cleared his throat and warmed up a bit. Then he sang.

"You can set yourself on fire,  
You can set yourself on fire.."

He sang the entire song. And I'll be honest...

His voice was still amazing. 

He hit the high and low notes just like he did before. His voiced lilted when it needed to. He was still the best voice I've ever heard sing. 

"Patrick, your voice is still amazing," I said. 

He looked at me, a little out of breath. He still had his voice, but he couldn't hold notes for as long. 

"Really?" he asked, seemingly surprised. 

I nodded. "Yeah, man. You're still the best. You had nothing to worry about."

He smiled. It was the first genuine smile I've seen from him since Elisa left. He looked truly happy. I'm glad making music helped him. 

He got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I was going to go get him some food, but when I opened the door, I saw Pete, Andy, and Joe with their mouths wide open. 

"Oh my god," Andy said. 

"What?" I asked, letting them into the room. 

"His voice," Joe said. 

"It's still awesome. Bren, how did you get him to sing?" Pete asked. 

I grinned and sat down. "He showed me some lyrics he wrote. He said he thought I could use them for a Panic! song. They were great lyrics, as usual. We wrote a song together and I convinced him to sing it."

Just then, Patrick stepped out of the bathroom. He looked down and mumbled, "You guys heard?"

Pete put his arm around Patrick and said ,"Dude, you sound fucking great! And that song was so dope!"

Patrick looked relieved and sheepishly smiled. He walked back to his bed and sat on the edge. "Listen guys, I uhh..." he started. 

"What is it, man?" Andy said, sitting next to him. 

Patrick scratched the back of his neck. "I want to play shows again, I really do. But maybe not, like, right away. Do you think we could take a little break from touring? Not for a long time... Just maybe another month or two. I promise I'll get back up there soon, but I just need some time..." he trailed off. 

Andy put his arm around Patrick as Pete said, "Yeah, of course, 'Trick. However long you need."

"Are you sure? I mean we don't have to, the fans are more important-"

Joe cut him off. "Patrick, you saved our fucking lives. You deserve a little break. Your health comes first."

"Okay, thanks guys. I really appreciate it," Patrick said. "I'm tired now, I'm going to sleep now. You can go home, if you want."

I frowned. "Patrick, you haven't eaten a lot today. You should eat some dinner before you go to sleep."

"Not hungry..." he mumbled, then curled up underneath the sheets and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late happy birthday to patrick! also happy birthday to melanie martinez! hope you enjoy the new chapter ily <3


	18. Chapter 18

Patrick P.O.V.

I'm finally leaving this white hellhole. 

I was practically bouncing off the walls, I was so excited. The doctors had taken the miscellaneous needles and tubes out if me and I was waiting for Pete to sign my discharge papers, since I would be living with him for a while. 

He decided that was a good idea since I was still healing and Elisa wasn't living at the house anymore, so I would be living alone. 

I was sitting on the edge of the bed I had been laying in for two months with a backpack slung over my shoulder. 

The door opened and Pete poked his head in. "You ready to go?"

I nodded vigorously and he chuckled. I stood up and followed Pete out the door. We walked through the hallways and met the others in the waiting room. I grinned at them and said ,"Thanks for staying with me here, guys. I know it was boring, but you stuck around for two months. I really appreciate it."

I got a chorus of "no problem" and "you would do the same". 

"Can we go home, now?" I asked. 

They all laughed and nodded. I stepped outside stood in the sunshine. This is the first time I had stepped outside since my little outing, and I don't even remember that. 

It took three taxi's to get all of us to the airport. A couple fans recognized is and asked for pictures. 

We got on the plane and I was seated next to Andy. Once we were in the air, I pulled out my phone and opened Twitter. 

I saw the pictures that I just took with the fans. Damn, photos spread fast. 

I looked at the replies for the pictures and was a little surprised by what I saw. 

"patrick looks like he lost a lot of weight. i hope he's okay"

"omg he's so skinny"

"i can see his collarbone. he needs to gain some weight."

Oh. 

I didn't mean to lose a bunch of weight. In the beginning, I didn't eat because it just came back up. Then Elisa left and I didn't want to eat. I was too depressed to do anything other than write. 

I didn't even notice how skinny I was. When I get home, the first thing I'm going to do is look in a mirror. 

"Hey, Andy," I said, nudging his shoulder. 

"Mmhmm," he mumbled, looking at his phone. 

"Have I lost weight?" I asked, showing him my phone. 

He glanced at the screen and then looked at me. "Yeah, you're a lot skinnier than you were. And you were small to begin with. We definitely need to get a burrito in you asap," he said, chuckling. 

I giggled. "Okay, thanks for looking out for me."

He put his arm around my shoulder. "It's my job, 'Trick."

I smiled and hugged him back. 

We landed a couple hours later. The others went home, but I took a cab to my house. I needed to pick up a couple things. 

When the taxi pulled into my driveway, I saw something I didn't want to see. 

Elisa's car was parked in the driveway. 

I sighed and payed the driver. Stepping out of the car, I walked to the door and considered if I should knock or not. 

Screw that, I payed the mortgage. 

I used the key and stepped in, breathing in the familiar scent. I walked into the living room and saw Declan inside of his play pin. 

I almost collapsed. I ran up and pulled him up into my arms. 

He laughed. "Da...da."

Oh my god. I hadn't heard him talk before. 

I missed him. 

"Oh, Deccy, I've missed you so much," I whispered, pulling him close. 

I can't believe there's a chance I would never see him again. 

"Patrick?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys like it! let me know what you think in the comments. if you're into poetry, i just published a poem on my page. it's called "you and i" (based off pvris obviously). it's a peterick poem. i would love if you checked it out. thanks, frens. ily <3


	19. Chapter 19

Patrick P.O.V.

"Patrick?"

I turned around and saw my beautiful (ex) wife. 

This woman left me. She wrote a note while I was temporarily dead. She made me sneak out of the hospital while I was gravely ill and get drunk. 

And I still love her. 

"Elisa, I-"

"What are you doing here?" she intergected. 

"I-uh-I'm staying with Pete for a while. I came to pick up some things," I almost whispered. 

I took a close look at her. I saw the redness around her eyes, the dried tear tracks on her cheeks, the smudged eyeliner. 

She's been crying. 

Why? Why would she be crying? She left me.

I set Declan down and walked passed Elisa to our bedroom. I grabbed a bag from my closet and started throwing clothes into it. 

"Patrick, what are you doing?" I heard Elisa ask from behind me. 

"You don't want me. I'll be out as quickly as possible," I said, not turning around to look her in the eyes. 

"But, Patrick, I do want you. I was scared of losing you. I was scared of getting hurt. But you're okay now. I mean, not totally better, but you're alive. Baby, I want you back."

I froze. 

My arm stopped throwing random shit into the bag and I turned around. "Elisa, do you know what I did after you left?"

She shook her head, confused. 

"I woke up and I thought I would be able to hug my wife. To hold my son. But I woke up to an envelope with this in it."

I pulled her wedding ring out of my back pocket. 

"Elisa, you want to know what I did? I pulled the needles out of my arm and the tube out of my stomach. I found a taxi and went to a bar,"

She gasped. 

"Yeah, I went to a bar. I don't remember much after that. But I remember feeling worthless. I remember the thoughts in my head telling me to find a bridge and jump off of it. Joe found me passed out. They dragged me back to the hospital. I was there for another couple weeks and I didn't talk to anyone. I wrote. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Hell, I'm pretty sure I helped Brendon write a new single. I shut myself off from everyone. Because of you, El."

She looked at me sadly. I saw tears on her cheeks. 

"Don't get me wrong," I continued. "I still love you. I wish you had never left. I wish I had never even gone into that fucking fire. But I can't turn back time. I can't make decisions for you. And I don't know if I can forgive you."

She let out a choked sob. "Patrick, oh honey, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't know."

She chuckled sadly. "You're the one the words. I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything," I said, zipping up the bag and throwing it over my useless arm. 

I walked passed her again. I texted Pete that I was ready to be picked up as I was walking down the stairs. 

Elisa ran after me frantically. She grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. "Patrick, please don't leave! I love you! I wish I never left! I regret it so much!"

I sighed and looked down. 

Just then, thunder crackled and rain started falling. The lights flickered and Declan started screaming. 

I ran to the living room and picked up Declan with my good arm. I whispered to him and rocked him back and forth, attempting to sooth him. 

He eventually calmed down and fell asleep. I kissed his head and went to his room. I gently set him in his crib. 

I walked to the living room and saw Pete's headlights through the window. Elisa was standing by the door. "You see, that's what I love about you. You're so good with Declan. He loves you, don't let him go."

"El, I love him too. But you won't let me. I do not want to let him go," I said, feeling tears prickling at my eyes. 

She walked up to me and grabbed my jacket by the collar. "Then don't, take me back. Please, please forgive me."

I pushed her off and walked out the door. Rain soaked my hair and shirt. I walked towards Pete's car and heard Elisa following me. 

"Patrick, please! Don't leave," she sobbed. 

I stopped and turned around. I wiped a tear from her cheek, but another followed. The rain made it hard to tell if she was crying or not. But I knew her.

"El, please, just... let me think. I'll come over to see Dec in a few days. We'll talk it over then," I whispered in her ear. 

I went back to Pete's car and grabbed the handle. 

"Baby, come home!" she screamed. 

I quickly got in the car and slammed the door. 

Pete looked at me sympathetically and started to open his mouth. "Don't. Just drive," I said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday from under the cork tree!
> 
> hope you guys have a lovely day! and i hope you enjoy the new chapter! ily <3


	20. Chapter 20

Patrick P.O.V.

We drove back to Pete's house in silence. 

I could tell wanted to ask me what happened but I must've looked really broken up because he didn't say anything. 

He pulled into his driveway and I quickly got out, throwing my bag over my shoulder and slamming the door behind me. 

Pete ran after me as I stormed off into his house. I collapsed onto the couch and let a few silent tears fall. 

"Patrick," Pete said tentatively. 

I mumbled in response. 

"'Trick, what happened? Why was she there?" Pete asked, sitting on the armchair next to the couch. 

I pushed myself up and pulled my knees up to my chest. "I don't know," I mumbled. 

Pete moved to sit next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. "Come on, buddy. Talk to me."

I took a shaky breath. "I walked into the house and Declan was there, in the living room. I haven't seen him in, what, two months now?

"I picked him up and hugged the life out of him. Then Elisa came in. I told her I'd be out as soon as possible. But then she said she wanted me back," I said. 

"Well that's good, isn't it? Don't you miss her?" Pete asked. 

He can be so thick sometimes. 

"Yeah, of course I miss her. She is... was... my wife. But I don't know if I can forgive her. You remember what I did after she left?" 

"Course I do. I don't think I've ever been more scared," Pete said. 

"I only did that because I knew, if I didn't get some drinks in me, I would've jumped off a bridge. I felt so worthless and used. No one would have missed me if I-"

"Don't fucking say that, 'Trick. Don't you dare. You know, I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you. I love you. That's not in a romantic way, man. I mean, I can't imagine a life without my little 'Rick ta life. Don't say that no one would miss you, because that's bullshit."

Pete hugged me tight, but also gently. The way you would hold a wine glass if you were afraid of breaking it. 

"I'm sorry," I cried into his shoulder. 

He rubbed my back as I cried. "Don't be sorry, buddy. Just know, you die, I die."

After I calmed down, he said ,"What happened next?"

I sniffled. "I told her I couldn't take her back. That I couldn't forgive her. Then she started begging. Pete, it hurt. So bad. I'd rather fucking go into another fire than have to do that again. Than you came and you know what happens from there."

Pete held me tighter. "'Hey, Trick, why don't you go shower and get changed? You've been through a roller coaster today. You need some sleep."

I nodded and stood up shakily. I stumbled my way to the bathroom and locked the door.

I took off my shirt and looked in the mirror. I was a little surprised by what I saw. 

*small trigger warning. ily*

I could see faint outlines of my ribs and my collar bone stuck out. My hip bones jutted out like cliffs.

As I looked at my body, I started having thoughts I haven't had in a long time. 

No, I can't do that again. Pete would kill me. 

Then again, I already feel like I'm dead. There's really nothing to lose. 

I shook my head and scratched at my skin as I showered. I finished and wrapped a towel around my waist. I noticed the skin I had scratched was red and some skin had peeled off. 

I was walking back to the guest room with a towel around my waist when Pete walked into the hallway. 

It was no big deal, he had seen me shirtless before. But he seemed taken aback. "God, Patrick, you're so skinny."

I looked down and pushed passed him into my room. I slipped on some pajamas and laid down on the bed. 

But my brain wouldn't shut up. 

I wouldn't be sleeping for a while now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i update too often lol. hope you enjoy it. ily <3


	21. Chapter 21

Pete P.O.V.

I forced my tired eyes open and sat up slowly. 

For a moment I forgot about everything happening with Patrick. Patrick was okay, he could use his hand. 

Then it came back to me. Our bus caught fire and Patrick could never use his hand again. 

Well, not entirely. For the next couple weeks, Patrick had to go to a physical therapist. They say, with the right treatment, he could be able to use his hand again. 

I quietly swung my legs over the side of the bed, careful not to wake up Meagan who was asleep next to me. 

I walked out of the room and went to check on Patrick. I cracked open his door and peeked inside. I didn't see him on the bed. What I saw was a bunch of tangled up blankets and a giant sweat stain in the middle of the bed. 

Where did he go? Oh god, did he go drinking again?

Okay, Pete, calm down. Look around the rest of the house before you assume the worst. 

I checked all the bathrooms and bedrooms. I looked in the living room and kitchen and didn't find him. 

I walked down the hallway, about to wake up Meagan and go check bars, when I saw the door to our basement open. 

Of course. 

There's a music room in the basement. 

I walked down the basement steps and let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Patrick was slumped on the floor in the middle of the room, asleep. An acoustic guitar was lying next to him and I saw his notebook next to him, messy scrawls all over the paper. 

I chuckled nervously. I walked up to Patrick and squatted down on the floor next to him. I shook his shoulder lightly and said ,"Hey, 'Tricky. Wake up."

He muttered something and didn't move. I shook his shoulder again and he shot up and opened his eyes, shouting ,"Pete!"

He looked around frantically and when his eyes landed on me, breathed a sigh of relief. I put my arm around him and asked ,"Why aren't you in the bedroom?"

He looked at me and sighed. "I had an idea for a song and wanted to test it out. I grabbed the guitar before I remembered..."

Before he remembered he can't play guitar. 

I grabbed the guitar and said ,"What's the chord progression? Let's see how this sounds."

He grinned and pushed his notebook towards me. I played the chord's he had written down and he frowned a bit. 

He took his notebook back and erased some notes. Sticking his tongue out, he hummed a tune, familiar to the one I just played. He wrote down something else and shoved the notebook back in my direction. 

I played the progression again, slightly different. It sounded great! I looked at Patrick and he was smiling. "O-okay. Can you play that while I sing these lyrics?" he asked nervously. 

"'Course, man. You want to count off?" I said. 

He nodded. "1...2...3..." he whispered. 

I played the notes while he sang:

"I got those jet pack blues  
Just like Judy  
The kind that makes June feel like September.  
I'm the last one that you'll ever remember."

He looked down. "What do you think? Should we scrap this?"

I shook my head. "Fuck no. Man, that's amazing! And you're voice is still great, by the way."

He look up and blushed. "Thanks, Pete."

"Okay, little man. How long have you been down here? I saw your bed. Nightmare again?"

He shyly nodded. "Yeah. It took me a while to fall asleep and when I did, I woke up an hour later from a nightmare. Couldn't fall back asleep so I came down here. Ever since Elisa said it, I've had an idea for this song."

He pushed the notebook towards me. I read the lyrics, and was blown away. 

"Shit, Patrick. These are fucking awesome! Have you written music for the rest of the song?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, but I haven't tried it out yet. Can't play," he said, frowning. 

I stood up. "Let's finish this later. We need breakfast and then you, sir, have a physical therapy appointment. Come on," I said, reaching my hand down to help him."

He sighed and grabbed my hand. I pulled him up, a bit too easily. He was really light. 

He'll get better soon. I know he will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just fyi, this fic is also up on wattpad, so add it on there if you want to be notified when i update! the username over there is falloutmoncheri. hope you enjoy the chapter! ily <3


	22. Chapter 22

Patrick P.O.V.

I followed Pete upstairs and to the kitchen. "What do you want for breakfast? Anything you want at Casa de Wentz," he said, grinning. 

I giggled. "Cereal. Do you have Lucky Charms?"

"You are a child," he said, pulling Lucky Charms from the cabinet. I got milk from the fridge while he got two bowls and spoons. He poured the cereal and milk and pushed one of the bowls towards me. 

"How's the arm, man? Any better?" he said, shoving the spoon in his mouth. 

I shrugged. "Well, it doesn't hurt anymore. Just sorta...tingles. I still can't move it," I said, frowning. 

I brought the spoon to my mouth as he said, "That's what the physical therapist is for. She'll get you better."

"Hopefully. Even if I do, I'll pretty much have to relearn everything I know on guitar. I lost the callous's on my fingers and the doctor said something about muscle memory. I don't know," I said, keeping my eyes on the bowl in front of me. 

Pete reached across the table and grabbed my hand. "That's okay, dude. Well get you back, good as new. I promise."

I faked a smile and nodded. "What time do we have to be there today?" I asked, changing the subject. 

He let go of my hand and started eating again. "An hour and a half. Plenty of time."

I stood up. "Ok, I'm going to go shower," I said, pushing the chair in. 

He looked at me quizzically. "You've barely eaten like half your cereal. You should eat more, 'Trick. You're still too skinny."

I looked at my bowl and saw that what he said was true. That was weird, I felt full. I shrugged. "I'm full. I don't know why."

He pointed his spoon at me. "We're going to have a doctor look at that. We'll ask Dr. Irwin today," he said. 

I sighed and went to the shower. I avoided my reflection and soon was dressed and ready to go. I played with Bronx with Meagan while Pete was getting ready. 

Soon he was ready as well and we drove to the clinic. We stepped out and Pete must have noticed that I was nervous. He patted my back and said, "Everything will be okay, Patrick."

I nodded and stepped into the double doors, Pete behind me. The receptionists told me to sign in and that Dr. Irwin would be with me shortly. 

Pete and I sat down. He picked up some magazines and flipped through them. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through Twitter, answering a few of the fans' questions. 

"Patrick Stump."

A looked up and saw a kind looking nurse with a clip board. Pete nodded encouragingly at me and I stood up and walked to the nurse. I followed her through a couple corridors and finally we were at a door. 

She opened the door and I stepped in. "Sit down and I'm just going to do a couple routine things," she said with a smile. 

I liked her, she was kind. 

She took my blood pressure and took my temperature. Measured my height. 

Then came my weight. I tried to turn away from the number, but accidentally glanced at it. 

I was 45 pounds lighter than the last time I checked. 

Woah. 

The nurse glanced at me, but didn't say anything. 

Soon the tests were finished and she said, "Dr. Irwin will be here in just a few minutes, sweetie."

I nodded and she left the room. 

I can't believe I lost 45 pounds. How did I not notice I was losing all this weight? 

I was in the middle of a mental breakdown when a blond woman walk in. She was holding a clip board and a black bag. "Patrick Stump?" she asked. 

I nodded. She smiled and said, "I'm required to ask that, but I know who you are. My daughter is a big fan."

"Well, tell her I said hello and thanks for listening," I said. 

She smiled. She looked at her clipboard while saying, "Everything looks good except your weight. What happened there?"

I sighed. "During the fire, I breathed in a lot of smoke. I got acute carbon monoxide poisoning so I threw up everything I ate. And ever since then, I haven't had much of an appetite. I noticed something this morning. I was full after half a bowl of cereal. Is that weird?"

She pursed her lips. "We have to get that fixed quickly. That could turn into something serious."

I nodded. "Okay, what can I do?"

She wrote a note on her clipboard. "I'm going to prescribe some medication. Take it twice a day and eat as much as you can, but not enough to induce vomiting. Every time you come, I'm going to check your weight. You need to gain at least 30 pounds to be the minimum weight for a man your size."

I nodded again. "So, my arm?" 

She stood up and walked over to the table I was sitting on. She took a look at my arm and grabbed it. 

I don't know how she could look at it. It was discolored and the skin was wrinkly. It was disgusting in my opinion. 

"Can you tell me exactly what happened?" she asked while looking at the skin. 

"Uhh well, I woke up and heard our driver screaming. I ran in there and his legs were on fire. I put him out and then the bus jerked. I hit my head pretty hard. I got up and stopped the bus. But then my arm caught on fire, it reached my shoulder before it was finally put out."

She nodded. "Wow, that must've hurt. Can you rate the pain?"

I'd been asked that question a lot. "At the time, it was a 10. Now my arm tingles sometimes, but most of the time, I feel nothing. And I can't move it," I answered. 

She held my arm and touched my wrist with her finger while saying, "Can you feel that?"

I shook my head. "Can you try to wiggle your fingers?" she asked.

I told my brain to make my fingers move, but nothing happened. My fingers stayed still and I got frustrated. 

"I can't", I said weakly. 

"Well, by the time you're done here, you'll be able to do that. And play guitar and do everything you want," she said smiling. 

I smiled back. I had real hope that she could help me. 

By the time I left, she had poked and prodded at my arm (I didn't feel any of it). She even pierced my skin with a needle, but I didn't feel it. That freaked me out. How can she be drawing blood and I don't feel anything? 

But at the end of the session, she touched a certain part of my wrist and my finger twitched. That was the first time any part of my arm had moved since the fire. 

She walked over to her desk and wrote a couple things on her clipboard. Then she stood up and said, "Okay, follow me Patrick. Is anyone here with you?"

"Yes, my friend Pete," I responded. 

I followed her to the waiting room. When we walked out, Pete looked up from his phone, looking bored. We walked up to him and Dr. Irwin said, "Hello, Pete. We made some progress today. With several more sessions, he should have full use of his left arm."

Pete grinned. "That's awesome! Is there anything we need to do at home?" he asked. 

"Just have him try to move his arm. Or start small, just wiggle his fingers. The more you practice, the faster you'll be able to do it," she said. 

Pete nodded. "Sure thing, Doc. Thanks," he said. 

"Pete, could I talk to you over here for a moment," Dr. Irwin asked him. 

Pet nodded and followed her. I could tell they didn't want me to hear, but I caught snippets of their conversation. 

"-if he continues eating like he is, it could become a serious eating disorder. You need to make sure he takes the medication and eats a proper amount of food."

"Absolutely. What if he says he's full again?"

"Well, my guess is that he's not lying about being full. You said he was sick with acute carbon monoxide poisoning for a month?"

"Yes, he was throwing up constantly. He couldn't keep anything down. Then something happened and he got really depressed. He seemed like he lost the will to eat-or live for that matter. He's getting better now, though."

"When someone can't digest food, or can't keep it down, the stomach becomes accustomed to getting very little food. Basically, you need to make sure he gradually eats more food. Even if he says he can't eat any more, try to get him to eat a couple more bites."

"Okay, thank you so much. I'll let you know how it goes."

"Please do. Also, you said he was depressed? Please keep an eye on him. I don't want anything to slow down this recovery. It might not be easy, but please look after him."

"Of course. I've been doing that for 13 years, not going to stop now."

I heard footsteps coming my way and pretended to be engrossed in Twitter on my phone. 

"Ready, 'Trick?" Pete said. 

I jumped up and said, "Yeah, let's go."

I turned to Dr. Irwin and said, "Next week?"

She nodded and said, "Yes, see you then, Mr. Stump."

"Oh please, call me Patrick," I said, shaking her hand. 

She smiled and nodded. She turned around and her heels clicked down the hallway. 


	23. Chapter 23

Patrick P.O.V.

Please come over tomorrow 

I stared at my phone, willing the words to go away. 

I missed Elisa, I missed her more than anything. She's a piece of me. I'm incomplete without her. 

But every time I see her face, that feeling of self hatred comes back. Bad thoughts swirl around in my head for hours on end. It makes me want to do things that aren't good. 

But I had to see her. I needed to talk to her. I needed to see Declan. 

I hesitantly held my phone in my good hand and slowly typed out:

Sure. 

I hit send with a feeling of regret brewing in my stomach. 

Once again, I didn't have a very good night's sleep. 

******  
I slowly opened my very tired eyes. I just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. 

But, unfortunately, I had to go see Elisa today. 

I looked at my phone and saw it was 11:00. I forced my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. I walked to the kitchen and made a bowl of cereal. I went to the living room where I saw Pete playing with Saint and Bronx. 

Upon seeing me, he said, "Wow, you don't look so good. Everything okay?"

"Just tired," I muttered, taking a bite of cereal. 

He glanced at me again but didn't say anything. I slowly ate the cereal, not paying mind to the people around me. My mind was too caught up in Elisa. 

I was vaguely aware of someone tapping my shoulder. "Unca Patwick!"

I looked over and saw Saint leaning on my arm. "You okay man?" Pete asked. 

I nodded. "What's up, little man?" I asked the baby. 

He just hugged my arm again. I smiled at him and snuggled him closer. This was making me miss Declan. 

I saw a drop of water hit Saint's head and realized I was crying. I wiped my eyes and kept my head down. 

"Bronx, take your brother to the play room," I heard Pete say. 

"Is Unca Patrick okay?" Bronx asked. 

"I'm going to find out. Get your brother," Pete responded. 

Bronx waddled over and pulled Saint off my arm. They left the room and I let a few more tears fall. 

"'Trick, believe me, I know you. I know when you lie. You're not okay," Pete said, putting his arm around me. 

"You got that fucking right," I said, burying my head in his shoulder. 

He put his hand on the back of my head and asked,"Come on, be real. What's up?"

"It's just... I feel so worthless right now. I'm going to my house to see Elisa today. I'm scared. What'll happen? What the hell do I say? What if she changed her mind and decided she didn't want me back? What if I break down and start sobbing again? I'm so pathetic!" I cried. 

"Aww, Patrick," he said, hugging me tighter. 

He pulled away and held my face in his hands so I was looking him in the eyes. "Patrick Stump, you are the most talented, caring man I know. Even though you may be made up of duct tape and safety pins on the inside, you would give them away to anyone who needed it. You're so strong, you're my rock. Don't ever fucking call yourself worthless, because you aren't."

****

I was in the passenger seat of Pete's car. After his little pep talk, we both got dressed. He agreed to drive me to the house and come back in about an hour. I would text him if I needed more or less time. 

He pulled in front of my house and stopped. I took a shaky breath. 

"Everything will be okay, Patrick. And if it isn't, we'll figure it out. We always do," Pete said, patting my shoulder. 

I nodded and put up a facade of fake confidence. I opened the door and stepped out of the car. I listened to Pete drive away before walking to the door and letting myself in. 

I saw familiar brown curls bobbing around the living room and timidly turned the corner. Elisa turned around, holding Declan in her arms. 

"Patrick," she said, her eyes going wide. 

"Elisa," I said, faltering, "c-can I see Declan?"

She nodded and walked over to me, holding my son out to me. I grabbed him by his waist and pulled him closer to me. I wrapped my good arm around him and held him close. If I held him any tighter, we would mesh together. 

His little fist grabbed the collar of my jacket and his head fell against my chest. "Da...da...dada," his small voice said. 

It was the second time I heard him talk. I almost started weeping right there, but held my ground. "I've missed him. So much," I said shakily. 

Elisa nodded. "I would to. I'm so sorry, Patrick. I was being selfish. I was thinking too much about myself, not focusing enough on your feelings. Is there any way you can forgive me?"

I held Declan tight. "Tell me why you did it."

She seems taken aback, but continued. "Do I really have--"

"Elisa," I said, pulling her note out of my back pocket. She gasped when she saw it. I carried the damn thing everywhere. "Lis, this isn't enough. I woke up from fucking dying and I was given this. Please," I pleaded, "why?"

She looked down, ashamed. "That day, I thought you were finally getting better. I took Declan out to get you something to celebrate. Then I got that text from Brendon. I was so, so scared. I can't even describe it. The thought of losing you, it was too much. I rushed to the hospital and you looked so...weak. Then Brendon told us... you were legally dead for 97 seconds."

She took a deep breath, as if this was physically painful to get out. "The only thing I could think of was what if it happened again, but that time you didn't get up. I wouldn't be able to deal with that, Patrick."

"So you left me to deal with the same thing instead?" I interjected. 

She let out a sob into her hands. "Patrick, I'm so sorry. So so sorry. I was being an idiot. I was too worried about my own feelings and didn't think about yours. I left because I was too scared of losing you!" she cried. 

Declan was falling asleep in my arms. I went to his room and carefully placed him in his crib, kissing his head. I walked back to the living room to see Elisa looking at me with tearful eyes. I sat down on the couch across from her and started talking. 

"Lis, what if this happens again? What if I get into a car accident and almost die again? How do I know you won't do this again?"

"Now I know, you won't leave. I know you're a fighter now. I believe that you'll pull through, whatever happens. I know you'll always be there for Dec," she responded. 

"And it took me literally dying for you to figure this out? Lis, if we switched positions, I would stick with you till the end."

"How do you know that? Do you know how much it hurt to see you dying in that hospital bed?" she almost shouted. 

"Do you know how much it hurt to have my god damn arm burnt off?! Do you know how much it fucking sucked throwing up everything I ate?! I needed someone. You're the only person that's ever loved me. You and Declan are the people I love most in the world and you took yourselves away from me! Elisa, I can't think of you without hating myself. You're beautiful, and it's making me psychotic. If I can't get one person to stay with me and love me, how the hell can I love myself?"

She looked at me, shocked. Obviously she didn't know how to respond. 

"Patrick, I love you too. We have a kid together. Are you really not going to take me back?" she pleaded. 

"Elisa, I love you. We have a kid together. Did you really leave me? And take our kid with you?" I retorted. 

She hesitated before saying, "Patrick, you're the love of my life. I--"

"Then why did you leave me?" 

She stared at me, sadness blooming in her eyes. 

I could tell she was telling the truth, she did regret leaving me. And she wanted me back with all her heart. But could I forgive her? Could I stop the part of my mind that's hating myself every time I look at her? Could I forgive her?

"Listen, Lis, I--" I began. 

She put her hand up to her chest, as if she was in pain. Her face scrunched up. "P-Patrick," she said quietly. 

"Elisa? What are you trying to pull?" I said. 

"I--I'm not," she whispered, then collapsed to the ground. 

I ran into her side. She was curled in a ball, clutching her chest. "Elisa, what hurts? Oh my god!"

She had her eyes shut tight and tears were falling. "Ch-chest," she said quietly. 

I took my phone out of my pocket and called 911. Elisa's hand ghosted to my unmoving hand and held it tightly.

"911, what is your emergency?" a female voice through the speaker asked. 

"My... My wife. She just collapsed and her chest hurts. Please help," I said, desperate. 

"Does she have a pulse? Is she breathing?" they asked. 

"Yes, yes! Just send an ambulance, please," I begged. 

"Okay sir. We have your location. An ambulance will be there soon."

"Elisa, baby?" I said, grabbing her hand.

I turned her over and saw that she was unconscious. Oh my god, is she dead?

I put two fingers to her neck and felt a dull heartbeat. Thank god. 

I stood up and rushed to Declan's room. He was asleep and I hated waking him up, I know he would start screaming. I rubbed his arm before picking him up. Surprisingly, he didn't wake up. Yet. 

I ran back to the living room and rushed to Elisa's side. I heard sirens in the distance, praying that they would get here quicker. 

Finally, I heard a loud knock at the door. I ran to the noise and opened it. "In the living room," I stated, and the paramedics rushed passed me. 

Declan had woken up from all the commotion and now he was bawling, screaming his little head off. I tried to sooth him, but he kept screaming. 

"Mama! Mama!" he kept saying. 

Even my own son didn't love me. I wasn't good enough for him. 

I rushed back to the living room, carrying the screaming Declan in my arms. The paramedics were leaning over Elisa. 

They carried her onto a stretcher and wheeled her outside. I went up to one of the men and said, "Can you tell me what's wrong with her?"

He shook his head. "We'll have to find out more. Is there anything we should know?"

"I-I don't know. We haven't really...been together these past couple weeks," I responded quietly. 

He looked at me for a moment and nodded. "Do you want to ride in the ambulance? If you do, quiet that kid down."

I nodded and finally, after a moment, Declan fell asleep again. I stepped up into the ambulance, watching as they poked Elisa with needles and put an oxygen mask over her face. 

I could only sit aside and watch as they inspected her. One of them asked me, "Do you know anything that could have caused this?"

I shrugged. "I guess she's been under a lot of stress these past couple weeks. Other than that, I don't know anything. Like I said, we haven't been together."

They glanced at me with judging eyes before going back to hovering over Elisa. 

God, if this is because of stress, it's all my fault. I did this to her. 

Why the fuck am I so hopeless?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like this fic is going downhill bc no one is commenting... 
> 
> ah well. i love writing this so im not gonna stop. ily <3


	24. Chapter 24

Pete P.O.V.

After I dropped Patrick off at his old place, I went back to my house to get Bronx. He was going to Ashlee's today. 

As I was buckling him into the car, he looked at me and asked, "Is Uncle Patrick okay?"

The truth was, I didn't exactly know the answer. Physically, he was okay. His arm was getting better. The doctor did say he would be able to move it soon. And we were working on his weight. I was trying to get him to eat a little more and making sure he took his pills. 

But after Elisa left, he slipped into his depression. Those lyrics for that song from a couple days ago, they were pretty real. I don't think I've seen him write like that before. At least he's writing it out instead of doing something else with his depression. 

I got into the driver's seat and started driving. "Okay, Bronxy, I'm going to be straight with you. Physically, like his health and body, he's definitely getting better. You know, the doctor said his arm will be back to normal soon."

"That's good, right?" his innocent voice asked. 

"Yeah, that's actually awesome news. It means he'll be able to play guitar and we can tour again soon."

I gripped the steering wheel tightly. "But, well, okay... you remember how I was when your mom and I split up?"

He nodded, looking a little scared. "Well, you could say he's like that now. Aunt Elisa and him are having... problems."

"Is he gonna split up like you and Mommy? I don't want Aunt Elis to leave. I don't want Uncle Patrick to be sad like you were," he said, looking up at me with big brown eyes, much like my own. 

I sighed. "I don't know, Bronxy. Hopefully, he will be okay. We'll help him," I told him, pulling into Ashlee's driveway. 

"Oh! Can we make him cookies? Those always make me happier," he said, grinning. 

I chuckled. "Sure, buddy. Now come on. Wanna go see Mommy?" 

He nodded and stepped out of the car. Just then, my cell phone rang. 

"Hey, Bronx," he looked back, "wait a second." I called. He stopped in front of the car, backpack slung over his shoulder. 

I looked at the small screen and saw Patrick's name. Was he ready to be picked up? That was quick. 

"Hey, 'Trick. Done already?" I said, putting the phone up to my ear. 

I heard a shaky breath from the other end. That can't be good. "No..uhh... not exactly," he said. His voice sounded scared and broken. 

"Dude, what happened? Need to be picked up?" I asked, stepping out of the car. 

I heard a child's shout from the other end. "I don't know what happened. We were just talking and she..." he drifted off. 

"'Tricky, what is it?" I said, scared of the answer. 

I heard another shaky breath. It sounded like he had been crying. "She...just collapsed. She looked like she was in so much pain. I...I called an ambulance. They took her to the hospital. That's where I am now. Can... can you come pick up Dec? He keeps asking for her and I...I..."

He sounded so broken, like every word he said hurt. God, what did he do to piss the world off? He's the sweetest little dude. He doesn't deserve this. 

"Holy shit, man, yeah. I'm just dropping Bronx off now. I'll be there as soon as possible. Need me to pick anything up from the house?" I said, grabbing Bronx's hand and guiding him to the house. 

"No, just pick up Declan. I'm waiting to hear from the doctors," his small voice drifted from the line. 

"Yeah, I'll be there soon. Stay strong, little man," I said. 

"I'm trying, Pete," he said, then the call ended. 

"Was that Uncle Patrick? Is he okay?" Bronx asked as I knocked on the door quickly. 

I shook my head. "I'm gonna go find out. I'll see you soon, dude."

Ashlee opened the door and Bronx stepped in, telling her a happy hello. 

"Hey, Ashlee, I would hang, but something happened to Patrick. I gotta go. I'm sorry," I said, already backing away. 

She nodded. "Sure, Pete. Hope he's okay," she responded. 

I mumbled a quick thank you, than dashed to the car. I quickly backed out of the driveway then sped down the road. 

I'm surprised I didn't crash. The only thing on my mind was Patrick. I dodged cars and ran a few red lights. 

I pulled into the hospital parking lot and got infuriated when I couldn't find a parking space. Finally, I came upon an empty space at the end of a row. I jumped out of the car, jamming the lock button and stuffing the keys in my pocket. 

I fast-walked to the hospital door leading to the emergency room. I stepped in and looked for Patrick. I saw his familiar strawberry blond hair. His arm was around Declan. 

Declan looked like he had been throwing a fit. His cheeks were red and there were tear tracks falling from his eyes. 

Patrick looked like a wreck. His hair was all over and his jacket was falling off one shoulder. I saw a scratch on his cheek from where Declan must've scratched him. 

I walked up to him and tapped his shoulder. He jumped, but his eyes warmed up when he saw me. "Pete," his small, weak voice said. 

He stood up, still holding Declan, and leaned into me. His other arm didn't wrap around me, but I knew he needed a hug. I wrapped both my arms around him and hugged tight. 

He pulled away after a moment and said, "Thanks for getting Declan. I'm still waiting to hear from the doctors."

I took Declan from his arms. Declan started screaming, "Mama! Mama!"

I looked around. People were staring. I grabbed Patrick's arms and dragged him outside. We stood outside the door as I rocked Declan, trying to calm him as I would Saint. Patrick leaned against the wall, his hand over his eyes. 

"Patrick, what the hell happened?" I said, trying to be heard over Declan's screaming. 

He shook his head. Poor guy looked like he could burst into tears at any second. "I don't know. I told you everything I know. We were just talking and she collapsed. Dude, she was in so much pain. It hurt to see her like that. It made me realize... Pete, I love her. I can't let her go, no matter how much she hurt me. I think I fell in love again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave me some feedback in the comments! should i continue? should i give up writing and throw myself down a well? let me know!
> 
> i hope you guys see what im doing with the lyrics. im trying to have ab/ap slowly being developed and written. you picking up what im putting down?
> 
> also, this is my last week of school! i have finals all this week so no updates until im finished :( but after that, hopefully i'll be able to update way more often :)
> 
> okay, that's it! love you all and thanks for reading <3


	25. Chapter 25

Patrick P.O.V. 

Pete departed with Declan after he said, and I quote, "go get her". 

I went back into the waiting room and saw someone had taken the seat I was in. I sighed and slid to the floor. I leaned my head against the wall. My head was starting to ache. All of Declan's screaming had given me a migraine. 

I let a tear slip from my eye. I'd been trying to keep it together for Declan, but now he was gone. It was just me. 

Or so I thought. I heard a click and saw a flash. I snapped my eyes open and saw a woman with a phone pointed in my direction. I would have said something to her, but I didn't. I had too much pain going on in my life to yell at a woman for taking a picture. 

I sighed and stood up. I made my way to the men's bathroom and pulled it open. Luckily, it was empty. I went to the sink and splashed some water on my face. 

I looked at myself in the mirror and almost didn't recognize myself. My hair was sticking up everywhere, my eyes and nose were red, my clothes were wrinkled and everywhere. I even saw a scratch on my cheek from where Declan scratched me while he was screaming. 

I slammed my fist against the wet counter and heard a little whimper. I turned around and saw a little boy, no older than seven, standing at a stall. 

His eyes were wide, he was scared. Oh god, I scared a little boy. 

"Oh man, sorry, kid," I sputtered before making my way to the door. 

Before I pushed the door open, the boy said, "Sir, it's really okay." 

I turned around and his scared face had morphed into forgiving. He continued. "My daddy keeps saying that getting angry is okay. He says Mommy will get better soon. He says sometimes when people we love are sick, we lose our emotions." 

I stared at the little boy. He was right. 

I nodded, unsure how to respond, and pushed the door open. I was walking back into the waiting room when I heard someone say, "Elisa Yao-Stump." 

My head shot up and I saw a woman in a white coat holding a clipboard. I rushed over to her and said, "Is she okay?" 

The woman nodded. "Yes, we're pretty sure we know what's wrong. We're finishing up a test that should confirm our suspicions." 

"Will she live?" I asked, very afraid of the answer. 

"If our diagnosis is correct, then yes. We can get her on the meds right away." 

I let out a sigh of relief. "Can I see her?" 

"Sure, right this way. She's asleep, but should wake up soon. We gave her a sedative to help with the pain," she said, leading me into the door. 

I followed her around a few corridors until we arrived at a wooden door marked 111. She gestured for me to enter and I tentatively turned the nob and pushed the door open. 

Her brunette curly hair that I love so much was spread out around her like a halo. She looked so peaceful, I almost didn't want her to wake up to a world that would probably hurt her even more. 

She was wearing a blue paper gown and an IV was attached to her wrist. 

I sat in a chair next to her bed and grabbed her hand. I brought the limp limb up to my lips and kissed it. Her knuckles grazed my chin as a tear found its way down my cheek. 

I stayed like that for about an hour, my eyes glued to her unmoving body. Her eyelids flickered every now and then, but for the most part, she was still as a statue. 

A voice cut through our beautiful silence like a razor. "Mr. Stump?" 

I tore my eyes away from Elisa and the doctor from earlier was standing at the door. I wiped my eye while saying, "So, what is it?" 

She closed the door behind her before saying. "It's something called stress-induced cardiomyopathy. It's common for women. Basically, when something traumatic happens, it could be the death of a loved one, even a breakup. The body releases sudden, intense stress hormones, which can cause chest pain. It's treatable, and she should be completely healed within weeks. It's commonly known as broken heart syndrome." 

I thought for a minute. I had caused this. It was my fault Elisa was in a hospital bed right now. If I had taken her back right away, this wouldn't have happened. Elisa was in pain because of me. 

"God, yeah, start her treatment. Get her better," I said, painting a smile on my face. 

The doctor nodded and left the room, leaving me alone with Elisa and my thoughts. I did nothing but stare at the ground. 

She came back a moment later with a bag of clear liquid. She hooked it up to the IV and soon it was pumping through Elisa's veins. 

I guess all I could do now was wait. Wait for her to wake up. Wait for her to find out that I did this to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy mermorial day <3


	26. Chapter 26

Pete P.O.V.   
I was worried about Patrick. He hadn't called or texted in two hours. That means Elisa wasn't so good or he was too upset to tell me what happened. 

He was right about Declan. Declan wouldn't stop screaming his head off. He kept screaming for   
Elisa. That must have been hell for Patrick. 

I finally got him to calm down when I put him in the playroom with Saint. He saw a toy that he always plays with when he comes here and played with that. 

I asked Meagan to watch them while I waited to hear from Patrick. Finally, my phone rang and   
Patrick's name flashed across the screen. 

I pressed the green button and said, "Hey, dude. How's she doing?" 

I heard a shaky breath. He'd definitely been crying. 

"She'll live. She's going to be fine," he said. God, his voice sounded so quiet and broken. This wasn't the man who sang his lungs out on stage. This was a new man. A man with a broken mold. 

"That's good, right? What's up?" I said, grabbing my jacket and heading out the door. 

"It's uhh... It's nothing. I'll tell you after I tell her. She's still asleep," his weak voice said. 

"Is she going to wake up soon?" I said while starting the car. 

"Yeah, that's what the doctor said. Elisa should be good as new within a week," Patrick said. 

"Okay, good. I'm on my way now. Declan is at home with Meagan," I said. I backed out of the driveway and started down the road to the hospital. 

"Okay, thanks, Pete. Please get here soon. I need...someone," he whispered. 

"God. Yeah man, I'll be there in like 20 minutes. Hang in there," I said. 

He hung up and I pressed the pedal. Soon, I was struggling to find a parking space again. I eventually found one and made my way to the waiting room. I went to the receptionist and asked, "What room is Elisa Stump in?" 

She typed something into her computer and told me she was in room 111. I quickly thanked her and walked to Elisa's room. I knocked on the door and it was a moment before the door opened. 

I walked in and I could swear I was in an episode of House M.D. Patrick was sitting in a chair, leaning against Elisa's bed, holding her hand. He looked even worse than earlier. His glasses were askew, his hair was even wilder, the scratch on his cheek from Declan had started to scab. There were dark purple rings under his eyes from lack of sleep. To be quite honest, Elisa looked better than him. She was sleeping peacefully and looked perfectly healthy (except the IV in her arm). Patrick looked like a wreck. 

"Hey, man. How you doing?" I asked. I already knew he wasn't okay. 

He shrugged weakly and turned back to Elisa. "Has she woken up at all yet?" I asked. 

He shook his head. 

What was up with the silence? 

"Dude, you okay?" I said, pulling up a chair from the side of the room. I sat down and put my hand on his back. 

He nodded, a little too quickly for my liking. I saw a single tear slowly drip down his cheek. 

"No, you're not okay. Come here," I said, putting my arms out. 

He looked at me pitifully for a moment before melting into my arms. His entire body slumped into mine and my shirt got wet with his tears. He started quietly sobbing into my chest. 

What the hell happened to Elisa to make him so upset? 

"Is Elisa okay? You said she would wake up and be fine. Why are you so sad about it?" I said while hugging him tight. 

He pulled away from me and looked at Elisa for a moment. Then he turned back to me and I saw the sadness in his eyes. He took a shaky breath before he spoke. 

"I was going to wait to tell her first but..." he drifted off. 

"What is it? Does she have cancer or something?" I asked. 

"No, no. She just... It's called stress-induced cardiomyopathy. Commonly known as broken heart syndrome, Pete. I did this to her. She's in pain because of me. I'm the fucking reason my wife is in a hospital bed." 

More tears fell from his eyes and I finally understood. He thinks he caused this. He must feel so worthless right now. God, this poor man. 

"Patrick, this is not your fault. That fire caused all of this to happen-" 

"Save it, Pete! I made the decision to make her wait. I was the one who wasn't going to take her back. This is my fault!" he shouted. 

"Calm down, 'Trick. If that fire had never happened, you would've never had to deal with all this," I said, hoping no doctors had heard his outburst. 

"Nonetheless, I could have taken her back right away and she would be fine, happy right now. But I'm so pathetic and selfish that I put my feelings before her own," he said, not meeting my eyes. 

"Patrick, you were scared of getting hurt again. You were being human. You didn't do anything wrong," I said, trying to get him to look at me. 

His eyes finally met mine and I almost broke. His eyes were crystal balls filled with sadness, hatred, anger. I knew most of these emotions were directed towards himself. Come to think of it, he looked pretty close to how I did all those years ago. 

Suddenly, I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye. Patrick's head whipped in that direction. Elisa had moved a bit. Her eyelids were flickering. 

"Pete, get out," he said quietly. 

I understood he needed some time alone with her to explain. I patted his shoulder and left the room. I walked to the waiting room and...well...waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shitty chapter ending i know, forgive me. i just wanna let you know i have a new fic up! im unsure if i will continue it, but i will if you want me to. it's called "art of keeping up disappearences". please go read, and if you like it, vote for and comment on it! okay, that’s it, ily and new updates and drama in this story soon <3


	27. Chapter 27

Patrick P.O.V. 

Her eyelids flickered. Her finger twitched in my hand. I squeezed her hand tight. 

She slowly opened her eyes, chocolate brown orbs staring into my ocean blue ones. She looked around, confused, like she was trying to remember what happened. 

Realization set in and she looked at me. Sadness dragged the corners of her mouth downwards and her eyes were glassy with crystal tears. 

We stared at each other for a moment. Then I decided to break the silence. 

"Hey, baby", I whispered softly. "How are you feeling?" 

She opened her mouth a few times before answering. "Why... Why are you here?" 

I dropped her hand. What does she mean why am I here? 

"I... I love you, baby. I realized, I can't lose you. Without you, I'm just a body without a skeleton. I need you," I said, my voice dripping sadness. 

She looked... surprised. 

"I can't believe it. You really want me? After all I did to you?" she said with a tinge of hope. 

I didn't think before the words poured from my mouth. "Elisa, I don't know if I can ever forget what you did. But love is... love is forgiving. Sure, I don't think I've ever been that hurt before. The pain I felt, I think I'd rather go into that fire again than feel what I felt when I read that note. But the reason I felt that pain was because I can't live without you. You're the antidote to my poison. You and Dec are probably the best things that have ever happen to me. A life without you is a life without love, hope, happiness. I love you, and I'm never ever going to let you go again." 

She was silent, staring at me with teary eyes. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to her forehead, sealing the promise I just made. 

"I love you, Patrick. I'm so, so sorry. Can we start over?" Elisa asked, keeping her lips close to my neck. 

I nodded into her neck. She wrapped her arms around me and I did the same. We stayed like that for I don't know how long. All I know is that I had my wife and son back. All was at peace. 

Soon enough, we pulled away from each other, but never unlocked hands. 

"Wait, there's something I have to do," I said, bringing my hand to my jacket pocket. 

She looked at me, confused and scared. I took her ring from my pocket and got down on one knee. 

"Elisa, will you-" 

"Yes," she said, her smile looking like it was too big for her face. 

I chuckled. "Let me finish, babe. Gosh.”

"Elisa, will you be my wife again?" I asked, holding the ring out to her. 

She giggled, the most angelic sound ever, and nodded. I slipped the ring onto the finger next to her pinkie on her left hand. I put my hands on her cheeks and kissed her. She kissed me back, her hands finding their way to the back of my hair. 

We kissed passionately for a minute, I could feel the love, the care radiating off of her. 

We eventually had to pull away for air, but my hand never left hers. We were back together, the world could spin again. 

Frankly, at that moment, I didn't care that my hand didn't work. I didn't care about my health or the fact that I was grossly underweight. All that mattered was that I had my wife back. We could be a family again with Declan and all our future children. 

I was happy, for the first time since the fire. My life was finally looking up and I finally had hope that things were going to get better. 

So this is what happiness feels like. I had almost forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i ship elisa and patrick so much ahh they're so happy togther <3
> 
> if you guys have any ideas for this story, let me know in the comments :)


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cue extremely fluffy chapter*

Patrick P.O.V. 

"So, baby, what's wrong with me?" Elisa said, looking at me with her big brown eyes that could melt chocolate. 

I took a deep breath. She didn't like that. "Is it that bad?" she asked, her voice dripping fear like the IV next to her. 

I quickly shook my head. "No, it's just...uhh... I'll just tell you. Promise you won't hate me?" 

She nodded, skeptical of what was about to come. 

"Well, it's something called stress-induced cardiomyopathy. Big words, I know. Or broken heart syndrome. Babe, it's caused by stress. I did this, I'm so sorry. It's all my fault," I finished, looking at her for some sign of emotion. 

"Aww, 'Tricky, it's not your fault. It's my bodies fault," she said, squeezing my hand. 

I knew it was my fault, but I didn't want to argue with her. We had just gotten back together. I'm not doing anything to ruin it. 

I smiled and nodded. "Anyway, you should be fine in a couple days. It's nothing to worry about.   
Nothing you can't handle, Lis," I said. 

Just then, there was a knock at the door. I kissed Elisa's hand before getting up and opening the door. Pete stood there, looking worried. I smiled at him and greeted, “Come in. She's great." 

He nodded before stepping in the room. He sat in a chair at the foot of her bed. I grabbed Elisa's hand again, not wanting to let her go. 

"Have you texted the others?" I asked, looking at Pete. 

He shook his head. "I wanted to make sure both of you were okay before telling anyone. Want me to text them now?" 

I turned to Elisa. "You okay with that?" I questioned. 

She nodded. "Yeah, go for it. Go ahead and tell them me and Patrick are back together as well," she said while kissing my hand. 

I smiled at her and twisted her wedding ring on her finger. Our hands moved together and our rings make a clinging sound. She giggled, as did I. 

Pete looked surprised. "So, you two are good?" he said while taking out his phone. 

We nodded, never taking our eyes off each other. God, I'm so in love. 

**** 

Pete P.O.V. 

I'm so happy for Patrick and Elisa. This is the most I've seen Patrick smile since the fire. I could swear he slept with a hanger in his mouth, his smile is so wide. He can't keep his eyes off her, either. His eyes are fucking twinkling. 

Elisa is very much the same. Despite her being in a hospital bed, she's grinning like the Cheshire Cat and she seems to be glowing. Those two are just so radiating happiness. This is what Patrick needed. This morning, he was sobbing, saying he was worthless and pathetic. Now, he could be standing in the middle of a hurricane, but he would still he smiling as long as Elisa was at his side. 

I sent a group text to Joe and Andy. 

Elisa's in the hospital. She's good, though. She'll be fine in a few days. Also, she and Patrick are back together. They're happy as can be. Come on down, if you want. 

I sent them the address of the hospital and the room number. 

They both said they would be on their way soon. I turned back to Patrick and Elisa. They were whispering to each other and giggling. They both look so carefree and untroubled. 

"They're on their way now," I said. 

Elisa's eyes suddenly widened. "Patrick, baby, where's Declan?" she asked. 

"I let Pete take him. He's at his house with Meagan and Saint," Patrick answered. 

"I could go get him, if you want," I offered. 

Elisa nodded. "Please? I want to make sure he's okay." 

"He wouldn't stop crying when I picked him up from Patrick. He was screaming all the way back to the house. I finally got him to quiet down when I have him that stuffed dog that he loves. I'll go clear it with the doctor's that he's okay to come back here. Be back soon," I said. 

They both nodded. Elisa looked a little worried now. "I'm sorry I caused all that trouble," she said, looking a bit guilty. 

Patrick flinched at that, but then went back to smiling. I sent him a confused look, but he ignored my stares. 

I waved Elisa off. "Ah, trust me, it's completely fine. Bronx was worse when he was younger." 

She smiled and nodded, them turned back to Patrick. She asked him how his arm was, and I took that as my cue to leave. I stepped out of the room, gently closing the door behind me. 

I okayed it with the doctor that I could get Declan and drove back to my house. 

I unlocked the door and shouted, “Meagan! I'm taking Declan to the hospital! Are you guys still in the playroom?" 

"Yeah, come get him!" her voice drifted back to me. 

I walked to the playroom and saw Meagan on a rocking chair, Saint breastfeeding in her arms.   
Declan was on the floor, playing with some blocks. 

Meagan stood up, situating Saint in her arms. She walked over to me and put one arm around my back. I hugged her tight, being mindful of our baby between us. 

"You okay, baby?" she asked. 

I nodded into her blonde hair. "Yeah, just a lot going on," I responded. 

Declan looked up at at us. He dropped the block he was holding and reached his small pudgy arms up to us. He wanted to join the hug. 

I motioned to Meagan to look at Declan. She turned her head and saw him, then giggled. I picked up Declan and he wrapped his arms around my neck. 

Meagan grabbed her phone from the table next to the rocking chair. I smiled and she took a picture. 

She showed the picture to me and I have to say, it was adorable. Declan's face was buried in my chest and his arms were gripping my shirt collar. "Send that to me," I said. 

She nodded. "I will later. Let me put Saint down," she said, walking out of the room. 

I grabbed Declan's toy off the ground and gave it to him. He laughed and smiled a toothless grin before grabbing it and pulling it close to his chest. 

I went to the living room and saw Meagan cleaning up some toys. I walked up behind her and grabbed her waist. She jumped, then turned and chuckled. "Peeeete," she bleated. 

I hugged her again. "Thanks for putting up with so much these last few weeks, Megs. I know it's been tough, but you've been the best. I love you so much," I said, kissing her forehead. 

She kissed my lips with her warm ones. "It's not a problem, babe. I'll always be there for you. I love you, too. With all my heart," she said. 

We stayed like that, Declan between us, for a moment. Then we pulled away from each other at the same time. I kissed her nose before saying good bye. "I'll be back later tonight, Megs. Patrick will probably stay at the hospital with Elisa," I said, walking out the door. 

"What!?" I heard Meagan say from inside the house. 

I forgot to tell her Patrick and Elisa were together. Good job @ me. 

I stepped back in the house. "Oh, okay, so. Patrick and Elisa made up. They're honestly as happy as can be. You should see them," I said. 

Meagan stood in the middle of the living room, mouth hanging open. 

She ran up to me, smiling. She hit me lightly while laughing, "You didn't tell me, loser!" 

I laughed with her. "Sorry! There was a lot going on, I forgot." 

She shook her head. "What am I ever going to do with you, Peter?" 

"Just keep being your perfect self, Megs. I have to go back to the hospital, but I'll be back tonight. Love you," I said, kissing her cheek before I dashed out the door. 

On the way back to the hospital, I stopped by Patrick's house to grab a few things. His house was unlocked. Patrick probably forgot to lock it up, what with all the commotion earlier. 

I grabbed a change of clothes for Declan along with his diaper bag. Then I was on my way back to the hospital. 

I got Declan out of Saint's car seat and grabbed his stuff after I parked. As I carried him into the hospital, he drifted off against my chest. I entered Elisa's room and saw Patrick seated on her bed. He was sitting cross cross at her feet. They saw me enter and both perked up when they saw Declan. 

Patrick got off the bed and took Declan from my arms. Declan woke up a bit when he was put in his father's hands. 

"Thanks for getting him, Pete," Elisa said as Patrick handed Declan to her. Declan laughed as he was put into his mother's arms. Patrick sat on the bed next to Elisa and they both played with Declan, giggling like the Mad Hatter. 

I smiled at them. This is what Patrick deserves. A happy family and a happy life.


	29. Chapter 29

****** 

Patrick P.O.V. 

I feel like I'm floating, for two reasons actually. 

One, I had my wife back. I had my son back. I could live with the women I love again. We'll grow old and grey together. My source of happiness is back. The stars aligned and so did our lips. 

Secondly, you know that feeling you get when you stayed all night to study for an exam? You literally got no sleep? Nothing seems real. It's like you're on drugs or something. Everything is floaty. 

Ever since the fire, I haven't had a proper night's sleep. Whether it be fear of nightmares or bad thoughts, I didn't let myself sleep. The last time I fell asleep happily was the night before the fire on the bus. My life since that morning has been waking up in cold sweats, or not falling asleep at all. Tossing and turning while dark thoughts swirl around in my head like a witch's brew. 

When I was at the hospital, the only reason I slept was because they were pumping sleeping medication into my veins (without my consent, I might add). Pete must've told the doctors I wasn't sleeping. Thinking back, it was probably what I needed. But at the time, sleep was the worst thing that could happen. Then, sleep meant horrible nightmares in which I relived the pain I was in every night. 

Now, sleep is slightly better. Of course, I still get nightmares. But some of them weren't as horrible as they were the weeks after the fire. Most of them involved Elisa leaving, but worse. First Elisa, then Pete, Andy, Joe, sometimes even an adult Declan. Those are so much worse than the nightmares reliving the fires. I can handle physical pain, but if I lost everyone... I wouldn't have a reason to live. The only reason I'm alive is because of the band. 

I haven't told Pete of the nightmares where he leaves me. That would paint me in such a negative light. I can't have him thinking of me so weak. It's downright embarrassing. Plus, I've caused him enough trouble and worry. I shouldn't bother him anymore. 

I didn't sleep at all last night. I was too worried about Elisa, even though the doctor told me she should be able to leave tomorrow. I just... I can't imagine what I would do if she died. I remember what I did when she left, I can only dream of what I'd do if she was dead. 

Currently, it was about 8 AM. I was seated next to Elisa's hospital bed. She was asleep, her hair cascading on the pillow around her like chocolate syrup on a brownie. I held her hand in mine, our wedding rings touching every so often. I smiled every time I saw our wedding bands together. It just reminded me of what I'd almost lost. 

I heard a knock at the door, followed by the creak of the door opening. A young nurse with brown wavy hair pulled into a ponytail peeked her head in, then stepped in. “Christina” was stitched into her shirt. 

"How did she sleep?" the girl asked as she fiddled with the IV. 

"Peacefully. I sat next to her all night," I said blissfully. 

"You must love her a lot if you're willing to sit awake next to her all night," the nurse said. 

I nodded. "Not really 'willing to'. I tried to fall asleep, I really did. But I kept worrying about her," I said, gripping my wife's hand a little tighter. 

"She's a lucky woman, Mr. Stump," the nurse said, then left the room. What a sweet girl. 

I looked at Elisa. Her eyelids opened to reveal the mocha ocean underneath. I smiled at her. 

"Morning, beautiful," I said, kissing her nose. 

She kissed my cheek. "Morning, even more beautiful," she responded, her voice sounding like silk. 

I scoffed. "You're more beautiful than me any day," I said. 

She shrugged jokingly. "Sure, but you're the most handsome knight." 

"Can I be the most handsome Ninja Turtle instead?" I said, sticking out my bottom lip. 

She giggled. "You cute little nerd," she said, her eyes twinkling with love. 

If we were in a cartoon, my heart would've burst out of my chest. I loved her so much.

She sat up in the bed, being careful not to pull out the needles. I pushed the hair out of her face and smiled. She shyly grinned at me. She's so adorable. 

Just then, my phone dinged, ruining our moment. I sighed and forced my eyes away from hers. I picked up my phone and saw I had gotten a text from Pete. 

Dammit Pete. 

His text message was asking if he could come pick us up later. That made sense, given I rode over here in the ambulance. 

Sure, she's due to be discharged by 6 tonight. Come over then? 

He confirmed and I turned back to Elisa. 

"Lis, Pete's going to bring us home later, that okay?" I asked. 

She nodded. 

Our day was mostly spent staring into each other's eyes. We both were avoiding the topic of what happened to each other when we split up. I understood now, it couldn't have been easy for her, either. 

Soon enough, it was 6 and Pete was knocking on our door, signaling it was time for us to leave. 

I signed Elisa's discharge papers and the doctor gave us a prescription to pick up on the way home. I sat in the back with Elisa and Declan (Pete had brought him to take back to our house) while Pete sat in the front, driving. 

We got Elisa's prescription and Pete dropped us off at our place. I carried Declan and his bag because Elisa was still a little weak and got lightheaded sometimes. 

"Patrick, you want to pick up your stuff from my place tomorrow?" Pete asked, rolling down the window. 

"Yeah, sure. See you then. Thanks for the ride," I agreed. Elisa waved at him as he pulled out of the driveway. 

She unlocked the door and we stepped inside. I breathed in the familiar scent. I missed my house. 

Declan was falling asleep in my arms. Elisa noticed and said, “Why don't you go put him to bed?" 

I nodded and she kissed his head. "Good night, baby boy," she said. 

I took Declan back to his room and placed him in his crib. He was already asleep when I put his blanket over his small body. 

As I walked out of the room, I plugged in his nightlight, illuminating the room with a light yellow glow and casting outlines of stars on the ceiling. It was small things like this that I missed. 

I hadn't noticed how tired I was until I halfway ran into a wall. The bang echoed throughout my   
far too large house (thankfully not waking up Declan). I stood there for a minute, startled. My exhausted mind couldn't comprehend what just happened. 

Elisa's voice brought me back to reality. "Patrick? What was that?" her soft voice came to me from the kitchen. 

I made my way to the kitchen, still a bit out of it. "Baby, you okay?" she asked. 

I nodded. "Yeah, just super tired." I chuckled nervously. "I just ran into a door." 

She walked in my direction. "I can tell you're tired, honey. You have really dark bags under your eyes and you've been stumbling all day. How about some tea and then bed?" she said while touching my cheek. 

Elisa knew me so well. "That sounds wonderful. I'll make the tea," I said. 

Elisa pushed me into a chair. "Let me make it, babe. I don't want you to burn yourself," her caring voice said. 

I stood up again. "No, you just left the hospital. I sh--" 

"Patrick, you just ran into a door. I just don't want you hurting yourself. I feel fine. Let me do it, please," she said, giving me a look with her soft brown eyes. 

I couldn't say no to those eyes. They were the color of the soft earth sprinkled by spring rains, the color of dark chocolate flecked with hazelnut, the color of deep brown winter trees at twilight. They melt me like the chocolate they look so much like. 

"Okay, baby, I'll go get changed. I'll be in our room. Bring me some good tea," I said, my eyes already closing. 

I stumbled my way back to our room and changed into a t-shirt and boxers. I laid on the bed and tried to stay awake for Elisa. Strangely, I wasn't scared of nightmares now that I had Elisa to sleep next to me. Most of the bad thoughts were gone. Elisa made me feel safe. My safety blanket. 

A couple minutes later, Elisa came into the bedroom with two cups of tea in her hands. She set the mugs down on the bedside table then went to change. She came into the room several minutes later wearing cotton shorts and a big t shirt. She was just so beautiful, god. 

I took my cup of tea and scooted over in the bed. She sat down where I just was and drank her tea too. We're going to be the best old couple. 

We chatted about nonsense, such as TV shows we'd missed while all this was happening, while we drank our tea. 

I felt my eyelids being pulled down by exhaustion. Elisa must've noticed my lack of talking and my head lolling back and forth. She took the almost empty mug from my hands and set it on the table with her mug. 

She gently pushed me down onto the bed and I let her. My vision was blurring from being awake for so long. She turned the lamp off and laid down next to me. I wrapped my arms around her small frame and she fit like a missing puzzle piece. 

I quickly fell asleep with her. For the first time in a long time, I had a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a psa: i love meagan camper


	30. Chapter 30

Patrick P.O.V. 

My eyes slowly opened themselves. I was confused for a moment. 

This was the first morning in a long time that I had woken up peacefully. No nightmare, no cold sweats. And I actually had a full night of sleep. This felt so good. 

Elisa turned over in my arms. Her eyes opened and stared into mine. She smiled and I kissed her lips, taking in every touch I could. I needed to make up for lost time. 

She pulled away from me and patted down my hair. "I've missed your morning hair," she said. 

I stroked her cheek. "I've missed everything about you," I whispered, my good hand ghosting to her lips. 

We got out of bed and walked to Declan's room across the hall. He was stirring in his crib and grabbing around his blanket. Elisa picked him up and started humming. I hugged her and Declan around her waist and started singing a lullaby. He snuggled into Elisa's hair and yawned. 

Elisa and I walked to the kitchen and she put Declan in his high chair. I pulled some baby food out of the fridge and gave it to her to give to Declan. She found a spoon in the drawer and started feeding him. 

"I'll make some eggs for us, that okay?" I asked, grabbing a pan from the cabinet. 

"That sounds awesome. You make the best eggs," she said as she played "airplane" with Declan and his food. He giggled and opened his mouth. 

I pulled some eggs from the fridge and began cracking the eggs. It was lucky I knew how to crack eggs with one hand. 

"Are you feeling better this morning?" I asked as I whisked the eggs in the bowl. 

"Oh yeah, I feel fine. I think it was just a thing, you know? Just don't go running into anymore fires. Obviously my heart can't handle it," her voice came to me from behind. 

I chuckled sadly. "I'll try my darnedest, babe," I said. I poured the egg/milk mixture into the scalding pan. It spread throughout the pan and I grabbed a spatula to cook with. 

"What about you? Are you feeling any better?" she asked, some hesitation evident in her voice. 

I nodded even though I was turned the other way. I realized I should probably say something. "Yeah, I actually got a full night of sleep last night. First time in a while." 

I realized the eggs were done and turned the stove off. I took the pan off the stove and poured the scrambled eggs onto a plate. I popped some toast in the toaster before washing the pan and setting it in the sink. 

Elisa was walking from Declan's seat to the sink to wash the small glass of baby food out. I walked in front of her as her foot got caught on her leg. She topped over, me with her. My arm came crashing down, right on top of stove that was still burning hot from the eggs. We both fell to the floor and broken glass crashed on the floor. 

"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry," she said as she tried to stand up. "Your arm!" 

I looked at my arm. It was the one that had gotten burnt in the fire. I saw pink marks and blisters beginning to form on the skin, but I didn't feel anything. A piece of glass had even embedded itself in my elbow, but I only saw the blood. 

Elisa stood up, but I grabbed her leg with my good hand. "Babe, watch out for the glass. I'll clean it up." 

I let go and leaned on that elbow. Elisa leaned down again and helped me up. "We should go to the hospital-" 

"No!" I interjected. Her eyes widened and I sighed. "I've been at too many hospitals lately. No more. Please. I'm fine. I don't even feel it. See," I said, waving my arm in a way that I definitely couldn't have done were I able to feel the burns. 

Her eyes widened even more, if that was possible. "Are you sure? It could be infected or something. At least let me put some ointment on it," she pleaded. 

I nodded. She helped me up and around the glass. Just because I couldn't feel the burns on my arm doesn't mean I couldn't feel the bruises forming on the rest of my body. My side had jammed into the corner of the oven, which I'm sure didn't do anything to help my ribs that had healed. They were broken when the bus exploded. 

She sat me in a chair next to Declan's. I smiled at him, which he cutely returned. Elisa came back several moments later with a jar of burn cream and some bandages. She opened the container as she said ,"We haven't been back together week and I've already mauled you. I'm so sorry, Patrick." 

"It's fine, babe. It doesn't hurt or anything. I deserve it for not taking you back as soon as I could," I said as she laid my arm on the table and began lathering the cream onto it. 

Her cool fingers gently rubbed the healing ointment onto the inflamed areas of my arm, calming the blisters. I, of course, didn't feel her do this, but I watched as her delicate hands took care of me, just like she used to. 

When she was finished, she washed her hands of the cream and closed the jar. She wrapped my arm up in white gauze and said ,"You don't deserve any of this, honey. I don't know what fucked up god decided to throw you into all of this. You're just a star in a dark, dark world, Patrick."   
She cut off the end of the wrap after it completely covered the wounded area and taped it. I pulled her into my lap and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Nurse Elisa," I said against her ear. 

"Anytime, Mr. Stump," she said as she kissed my lips. I pushed mine against hers and fire ignited. Our hands were in each other's hair and chest was against chest. We made out like that for about five minutes before we realize Declan was watching us. We pulled away and stared into each other's eyes, mocha meeting ocean. 

Elisa kissed my nose one last time before getting off my lap. She unbuckled Declan from his chair and carried him out of the room, but not before turning around and winking at me. 

I sat there for a moment, staring ahead. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. I was giddy and it was like being high. I love Elisa so much. She's perfect in every way possible. 

I soon stood up and went to our room to change. I put on some black jeans and a t shirt, dressing to go to Pete's and get my stuff. 

Elisa walked in as I was struggling to tie my shoes with one hand. She kneeled down in front of me and gently stopped my hand. She tied the laces on the black shoes and looked up at me. 

"How did I ever function without you?" I pondered aloud, standing up. 

She hugged me around my skinny waist and I hugged her back with my good hand. We pulled away from each other and I walked to our front door. She kissed my lips and I kissed back. "I'll be back soon, baby. I love you," I said, grabbing the keys from a table next to the door. 

"I love you, too. See you soon," she said. I kissed her forehead one last time before walking out and closing the door. I got in my car and starting driving to Pete's house. 

I'm sure it might've been against the law to drive with only one functioning arm, but oh well. I made it to Pete's without dying, so I'm sure it's fine. 

I walked to his door and knocked. A moment later, he opened the door, a baby Saint in his arms. He glanced at my bandaged arm and his eyebrows furrowed. "Hey, 'Trick. What happened to your arm?" he asked, opening the door wider to let me in. 

I stepping in and said ,"Fell on a stove. No big deal, didn't even feel it," I answered casually. 

I walked to his guest bedroom and grabbed my bag from the floor. Pete followed me in saying ,"Dude, you got a burn fetish or something? You gotta stop burning that arm." 

I grabbed my clothes strewn about the room and threw them in the bag. "No fetish, just clumsy,"   
I responded. 

He snorted. Just then, Meagan walked in, holding a bottle of milk for Saint. Meagan handed the bottle to Pete, who walked out of the room as he started feeding the baby. 

"Hey, Patrick. How's Elisa? The gossip is you two are back together," Meagan said, walking to the bed and sitting on the end. 

I chuckled. "She's great. It was just something we had to get through, you know?" I responded.   
She nodded understandingly. 

"And, yeah, we're back together. I finally realized I'm an idiot for not taking that beautiful woman back right away," I said, walking to the closet to grab my clothes. 

She giggled as I tried to reach a fedora that was on the top shelf in the closet. She stood up and grabbed the hat off the shelf with ease. I jokingly scowled and took the hat from her hands, throwing it to my bag. "Thanks," I said. 

She giggled again. "No problem, short guy," she said. 

I dramatically scoffed, but then relaxed and laughed. I zipped my bag up and turned to her.   
"Thanks for being so awesome with all this, Meagan. I know I kind of busted in on your and Pete's life, and I'm sorry. But you haven't said a thing or even seemed annoyed. And thanks for watching Declan when Lis was in the hospital. That was really cool of you," I said. 

She smiled and hugged me, her slender arms wrapping around my neck. "It's not a problem, Patrick. You know Saint and I love Dec, and you living here? It was the least we could do considering.." she trailed off. Considering my life was shit at the time. 

She pulled away and grabbed my shoulder. "Besides, you're a pretty rad dude. I loved having you here. Feel free to come back any time," she finished. 

I grinned and nodded. She followed me out of the room and to the living room, where Pete was quietly feeding Saint and humming. 

I tapped Pete's shoulder and he turned around. I started to say something, but he put his finger to his lips and shushed me. I understood, Saint was falling asleep. 

I mouthed "thank you" before turning to head out the door. Meagan gave me one last hug before bidding me good bye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think!!


	31. Chapter 31

Patrick P.O.V. 

"Come on, baby. You can do this," Elisa said, gently gripping my shoulder. 

We were sat at our dining room table, my arm on the shiny brown wood. I was trying to move it, or even get my fingers to wiggle. So far, I hadn't been successful. 

"I'm trying, Lis," I grunted. 

I told my arm to move, I tried so hard I felt a thin layer of sweat breaking out on my forehead and upper lip. But my discolored arm remained still. 

Elisa ran her hands along my forearm, being careful to avoid the bandage from the more recent burns. I willed my hand to grab hers, to show her that I loved her, but my arm remained still.   
I breathed out and said, "Fuck it, Elisa. I can't." 

She shook her head. "Baby, I believe in you. I think you can do this. Try, Patrick. Try to grab my hand," she said, placing her hand out on the table. 

My brain sent signals to my arm, willing it, begging it to move. Even a wiggling finger would be a breakthrough at this point. 

Come on I said to myself. You pathetic little... Move your arm 

My fingers didn't curl like I wanted them too. I banged my good hand on the table with a fist. I grunted and stood up, pushing the chair back. "Lis, this is hopeless," I said pitifully, walking into the living room. 

I collapsed onto the couch face first. I heard Elisa's light steps running into the room, then a deep sigh when she saw me. She walked over and sat on the arm of the couch. Her delicate hand patted my head and her silky voice found its way to my ears. "Patrick, honey, no one said this was going to be easy. You're probably not going to get it the first time." 

I pushed myself up and looked at her. She had genuine hope shining in her eyes. I felt bad I couldn't give her the same look. "Lis, you don't know what it's like not to be able to do something as simple as move your arm. Someone may have basically cut it off,” I mumbled.

Elisa slid onto the couch next to me and put her arm around my shoulder. She patted my shoulder and said, “Baby, do you realize you’re lucky not to have lost your arm? When Andy called me, he said you were close to losing your arm. You have to at least realize that you very well couldn’t have an arm right now. I know it can’t be easy, but just give it a little bit of time before you completely give up. I know you, Patrick. I know you can do this, Hell, you died and you got through that alive, strange as it sounds. Just please, don’t give up hope. I believe in you, so does Pete, Andy, Joe, and the fans.”

I nodded into her neck. I heard a noise to my left and saw the gate to Declan’s little play pin crash down. Before I could react, his small body came crawling towards us. His little body waddled in our direction and his head was in a direct line with our coffee table. Our coffee table with sharp corners. 

Something inside me sparked and my discolored, burnt arm shot up and caught his head before it could hit the table. I grabbed him with my other hand and brought his small body into my lap. 

I sat there, shocked for a moment. Neither Elisa nor I moved for a solid minute before she jumped up and shouted, “Patrick, you--!”

“I know!” I shouted, jumping up and wrapping my arm that wasn’t holding Declan around her petite waist. 

I then felt my bad arm holding Declan weaken. I had to strain to keep him up while saying, “Lis, babe, grab Declan!”

She pulled away from me and grabbed our son before my arm went limp again. I frowned and looked up. Declan was looking at me with an amused expression and Elisa looked sad. 

“Well, I guess I’m a one-hit wonder,” I sighed before sitting retreating back into our room. 

I closed the door and laid down face first on the bed. I finally impressed Elisa, I finally did something good, but I couldn’t even keep it up for a minute. God, why am I so pathetic? 

I stayed like that for several minutes before getting up and stumbling into a t-shirt and tugging my jeans off. I slumped into bed and, before I knew it, I drifted into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's boring now, but scary stuff happening next chapter


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah so something happened with the formatting. up until the ***** it should be in italics.
> 
> anyway, here's wonderwall

Flames surrounded my entire being. They licked up my bed as I fought against the smoke invading my lungs. I coughed into my hand and it felt wet. I looked at my palm and it was coated in red. 

I jumped over the flames framing my bed and ran to Declan’s room. I kicked the door open and smoke pushed out at me like a train. I pulled my shirt over my nose and ran in. My eyes watered as the dark swirls of ash cascaded over my entire body. Angry red and orange flames climbed up the walls. I looked at the place where Declan’s crib usually was and cried out at the sight. 

A pile of ashes stood where a wooden crib should be. A foot kicked into the black beads and I followed the leg up to see a younger, 20-year old version of me. No, this boy had deep brown eyes, deeper than the deepest toffee brown ocean. Those were Elisa’s eyes and this was an older version of Declan. 

I fell to the floor and wept into my hands. I felt a foot roughly connect with my ribcage and looked up to see the older Declan kicking my stomach. I shouted and cried out. He continued to kick me as I shouted, “Declan, please, stop!”

Another person joined in, making my misery worsen. Now Elisa’s heels were digging into my torso. I heard a snap and felt blood drip down my stomach as it stained my shirt. I clawed at the ground as I pulled myself away from them, my loved ones screaming insults at me the entire time. 

I dragged myself to the hallway and pushed myself up the wall, grabbing my pulsating stomach. I leaned heavily against the wall and tears streamed down my face as I made my way out of the house. 

When I entered the living room, my band was standing there. And they didn’t look happy. 

“You worthless little man, if I can even call you that. More like scum”, Pete scowled.

I fell to the ground, my surely broken rib being the cause. Pete, Joe, and Andy sauntered up my body and spit insults at me. 

“God, how could I ever have played music with you? You no-good singer, hell I barely consider you a musician.”

“Your annoying ass had to pop up that day at Border’s… I wanted to run away at the sight of you. ”

“I can’t believe I ever called you my best friend.”

Insults rained down on me like a brutal storm. Flames began to surround us, inching their burning hot fingers toward us. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whimpered. I watched as the flames crawled through the guys, as if they were ghosts, but when they reached my quivering body, I felt the burning hot daggers pierce my skin. I still heard them shouting poison at me and I screamed as the fire spread throughout my entire body. This was it, there was no getting out. 

*****

I shot up in bed, screams erupting from my mouth. I felt slim arms wrap around me but I pushed them away. I pushed sweaty sheets off me and stumbled to the bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind me.

Everything was blurry. I still felt the tingles of the dreamy flames on my arms. I was vaguely aware of Elisa knocking on the door, calling my name and asking if I was okay. But her sweet words were drowned by the venomous ones I heard from her in my dream.

I don’t know how long I sat there, huddled on the bathroom floor. My skin tingled. No matter how much I scratched at my skin, I still felt hungry flames on my entire body, desperate for a bite.

Oh my god, I’m still in a fire. Orange and red watercolor painted my eyes, all I could see was flames. 

My throat started closing up, I couldn’t breathe. I was gasping for air, grabbing around me for anything, anyone to hold. My cheeks were wet with tears and sweat. I sobbed as my mind played tricks on me and my sanity crumbled again.


	33. Chapter 33

Pete P.O.V.

I woke up to a ringing. I looked at my clock and saw it was 4:13… who would be calling me this late?

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up quietly, grabbing my phone off the bedside table and unplugging it from the charger. I tiptoed out of the room, being careful not to wake up Meagan.

I looked at the caller ID and saw it was Elisa calling. Oh god, this can’t be good.

“Hello? Elisa, what’s up?” I said groggily. 

I heard shorts breaths before her panicked voice said, “Pete? I need you to come over here right now. Patrick, he… I don’t know! He just, I woke up and he—“

“Elisa, slow down. What happened?” I said, much more alert now. I slipped some shoes on and grabbed a jacket before dashing out the door as she explained.

She took a deep breath before stuttering out, “He… we were trying to work on his arm earlier. He got really upset when he couldn’t. Then Dec almost hit his head on a table, but Patrick grabbed him before he could with his bad arm. He held him for a bit, then almost dropped him. Pete, he looked so, so sad. He went to our room and I put Declan to bed. When I got back to our room, he was asleep. So I laid down next to him and went to bed. Next thing you know, I wake up to him screaming. I tried to calm him down, but he locked himself in the bathroom. I can’t get him out and all I hear is crying. Please, can you try to get him out?”

I stood, my hand on the door knob, shocked for a minute. Then I sprang into action, running to the car and slamming the door behind me. “I’m on the way.”

********

“He’s upstairs,” Elisa said after she opened the door.

I nodded and rushed up the stairs, taking two at a time. I found my way to their bedroom and looked to the bathroom door. A dim light could be seen under the crack of the door and soft weeps were audible throughout the room. 

I hesitantly stepped up the door and lightly knocked. “P-Patrick? It’s Pete. You okay in there?” I asked quietly. 

I heard his crying stop for a moment, then continue. I just imagined what he looked like right now. Cheeks red, hair a mess, empty tears hitting the floor. 

“Patrick, buddy, can you open the door?” I said, hoping for an answer. 

I heard nothing except smalls whimpers from the other side of the door. If Patrick wouldn’t comply, I would have to take measure into my own hands.

“Patrick, if you don’t open the door, I’m going to have it open it myself,” I told him. I heard no clear response, so I turned to Elisa, who was waiting at the door. “Do you have a bobby pin or something?”

She nodded and ran out of the room, returning moments later with a bobby pin in her hand. I thanked her and took it from her nimble fingers. I placed the pin in the lock and jiggled it around until I heard a click. 

I took a deep breath and swung the door open almost crying out when my eyed landed on Patrick.

He was huddled in the corner of the bathroom. His cheeks were red, as I imagined. His hair was everywhere and tears were still falling from his eyes. His hand was scratching at his concave stomach, a little red blood trickling down his shirt from his stained fingers. 

I took a step toward him and he huddled back even more. I stopped, thought for a moment, and knelt down. This was like trying to comfort a lost puppy. 

“’Trick, what happened? You want to tell me about it?” I asked tentatively. 

He shook his head. I slowly scooted toward him and grabbed his wrist, pulling it away from his stomach. He jumped and his eyes finally met mine. All I saw was fear. His pupils were blown and dilated, the blue barely visible through his apparent terror. 

I tore my eyes away from his and looked at his stomach. There were scratch marks all over it and some were bleeding. “God, Patrick, why?” I said more to myself than to him. 

His breathing started to speed up and even more sweat broke out on his forehead. Fuck, he’s having a panic attack. Last time this happened, he fucking died. 

I grabbed his other wrist and said, “Patrick, Patrick, I need you to look at me. Okay, okay. Take deep breaths. With me, okay? Can you do that? Breath in, 1-2-3-4. Breath out, 1-2-3-4. Do that with me.” 

His breaths kept getting shorter and I heard him whisper something. It sounded like, “He’s not real.”

What the hell happened to him? Last time I saw him, he was a fucking rainbow. It’s only been a few days. 

“Patrick, I’m real. I promise. Grab my hand,” I said, trying not to cry watching my brother falling apart.

His blood-covered hand slowly wandered into my palm. I wrapped my fingers around his and squeezed. His hand shakily wrapped around mine and his eyes met mine again. I watched him squint, as if he was trying to see through fog. 

“Patrick,” I said hesitantly, “I’m right here. I promise. What happened? Did you have a nightmare?”

He flinched, then nodded. His breathing slowed down a bit.

“Okay, do you want to talk about it?” I asked.

He shook his head, a little too quickly for my liking. 

“Are you sure? It might help,” I hazarded.

He looked at me, baby blue meeting whiskey, and nodded slowly.

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up,” I said, wrapping my hand around his waist. He flinched as I did it for some reason. What happened to him in that dream? 

I stood up slowly, bringing Patrick up with me. He leaned all his weight on me and I basically carried him to his bed, which wasn’t hard considering he was still so skinny.

I laid him down and looked to see Elisa at the door. She looked at her bleeding husband with wide eyes. “I—We used all the bandages a couple days ago for his arm. I’ll go run and get some more real quick,” she said, her voice cracking.

I nodded and she walked away, wiping tears from her face. I turned back to Patrick and saw him looking at the door with a mixture of sadness and… fear?

I sat on the bed next to him and said, “So, tell me about this dream of yours.”

He looked at me with wide eyes and wiped a tear from his cheek. “I—uh—well, when the dream started, I was waking up a—and the house was on fire. So I went to Dec’s room… and his crib… it was just ashes.” 

His voice cracked and more tears fell down his cheeks. I patted his shoulder and thought, Jesus.

“Then, like, I don’t know, a teenager version of Declan was there. And he just… started kicking me. Then Elisa was there kicking me too and they said all these horrible things. I—I crawled out and I could swear I had a broken rib—and then you guys were, you, Joe, and Andy, and you were yelling stuff about how I was ugly and worthless and shit I hear on Twitter every day—“

“Patrick, you know none of it was true, right?” I interrupted. 

He shrugged. I sighed and asked, “Well, why were you scratching your stomach?”

He brought his hand to his stomach again, but I grabbed it before he could start scratching again. He sighed and said, “W—When you guys were yelling at me, the fire was spreading. It went right through you, then it hit me. Fuck, it felt so real. It was like I was back in the bus. When I woke up, I still felt it. All over. Like f--fucking knives all over my skin,” he drifted off, silent tears falling down his cheeks.

I pulled him into my arms and hugged him tight, as if I was a dreamcatcher that could protect him from all his nightmares. 

“Patrick, you know I would never say those things to you, right? I could never hurt you, little man. You’re my rock,” I said. 

He nodded into my neck, staining my t-shirt with his tears. He pulled away and said, “That’s the thing, Pete. I’m supposed to be your rock, but lately I haven’t been doing a good job. I’ve been whining and crying to you and I haven’t been there for you and—“

“Shh,” I shushed him as I pulled him into another hug. “There’s nothing wrong with being sad once in a while.”

Just then, Elisa came running into the room, carrying a bag with medical items in it. I pulled away from him and laid him back. He pulled his shirt up and I almost left the room. His ribs still protruded and his hips jutted out like they wanted to escape from his skin. Combined with the deep red scratches Patrick had made, it really didn’t look healthy at all. 

Elisa stopped in her tracks for a moment, then sprang back into action. Patrick shrunk into the bed, surely self-conscious.

I held Patrick’s hand as Elisa rubbed disinfectant on the cuts. He winced and squeezed my hand, but soon it was over. Elisa taped some bandages on him and gave him some painkillers that made him drowsy. He kept telling us he didn’t want to sleep, but eventually drifted off.

Elisa walked me to the door. “Thanks for calling me. It really sucks that he gets nightmares like that,” I said to her.

She nodded sadly. “He said they’d stopped since we got back together. I don’t know what happened to cause such a horrible one. And I just… I don’t know how to help him.”

“Well, Elisa, I think he needs you more than you, and maybe he, knows. Please keep him safe,” I responded.

She nodded again. “I’ll try my best, but sometimes that head of his makes is rough for either of us to keep him safe.”

I hugged her and offered, “Want me to come over tomorrow?” 

“I’ll let you know how he is in the morning. He’ll be hurting,” she said. “He’ll probably need you to be honest. I’ll text you.” 

I nodded and left. The drive home was lonely and heavy with worry. I can’t believe Patrick hurt himself like that…


	34. Chapter 34

Patrick P.O.V.

Ring Ring Ring…

I woke up and grabbed my phone on the table. The name “Meagan” lit up the caller ID.

I tapped the “answer button” and put the phone to my ear. “Hey, Meagan. What’s up?” I said.

I heard a sniffle from the other end. “P-Patrick. It’s P-Pete, h—he-he,” she could barely get out before breaking down sobbing. 

“Oh my god, Meagan. What happened?” I asked, already grabbing my keys and dashing out the door. 

“P-Pete, I f-found him in the b-bathroom. H-his wrist, th-they were all b-bloody, and his Xanex b-bottle w-as empty next to him. He d-doesn’t have a pulse. He’s d-dead.”

*****

My eyes snapped open and I sat up quickly, winching as the bandages pressed against the fresh cuts on my stomach. I stumbled out of bed and ran to the kitchen. I saw Elisa sitting at the dining room table with Declan. 

“Patrick, h-“ she started to say. 

“Where’s my phone?” I cut her off. 

She furrowed her brow and pointed to the kitchen counted, where my phone was sitting.

I ran over and picked it up, quickly dialing Pete’s number and putting the phone to my ear, much like I had in the dream. I knew it was a dream, but fuck, I needed some reassurance. 

“Patrick, what’s going on?” Elisa asked, worry dripping from her voice. 

I ignored her and focused on the dial tone coming from my phone. It rang a couple times before I heard silence.

That second was the longest second of my life. My mind started to go dark. Oh my god, it wasn’t a dream. Pete’s gone, why i—“

“Hey, ‘Trick. You okay, feeling better?” Pete’s voice drifted to my ear. I let out a breath of relief.

“Yeah, I—just—uh—making sure… never mind,” I stuttered out. Elisa looked at me like I was insane, which I probably was.

“You sure you’re okay, man? Need me to come over?” he offered.

“N-no, it’s fine. Just another rough dream,” I responded, hoping he would drop it. 

I already heard him grabbing his keys. “I’m on my way,” he said, then I heard him tell something to someone, probably Meagan.

“No, Pete, you don’t have to. I’ve already bothered you enough—“ I didn’t finish before he protested. 

“You’re never a bother, little man. Be there soon,” he said before hanging up. 

I sighed and put the phone down. I felt small arms wrap around me. I winced as the touched my cuts. Elisa took her arms away and said, “Sorry, baby.”

She gently pulled me to the dining room table and I sat down. I kissed her cheek and smiled. 

“What was that? What was you dream about?” she asked, setting a mug of coffee in front of me.

I grabbed the coffee and took a sip. “Just another nightmare, not important.”

“Patrick, if you’re having nightmares, it’s important. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me about it?” she said. 

I sighed. “It was nothing. P-Pete just sort of… died. I just—I needed to make sure…” I drifted off, feeling uninvited tears fall.

She stood up and walk over to the chair next to mine. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders and I hugged back, pressing my nose into her neck.

“Aw, honey,” she crooned. I quietly cried into her shoulder for several minutes. We both looked up when Declan made an upset noise. He pouted and stuck his arms out. He wanted to join our hug. If only he knew that some hugs trap sadness inside of them.

I wiped my tears away and stood up, walking over to Declan’s high chair. I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and heard his little giggle, which brought a small comfort. 

Elisa and I got dressed and it wasn’t long before I heard a knock at our door. Elisa went to change Declan and I answered the door. 

“Hey, ‘Trick. How you feeling?” Pete asked when I opened the door.

“I’ve been better, I’ve been worse,” I answered, opening the door wider and letting him in. 

He walked in and made his way to the fridge, opening the door and pulling out some orange juice. “Mind if I have some?” he asked. “I kind of left in a hurry.”

I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and handed it to him. “You know, you didn’t have to come,” I said.

As he poured the juice, he said, “Yes, I did. Patrick, I can’t do anything without knowing you’re okay. Please let me help you.”

I sighed and nodded. We walked to the living room and sat down on the couch. Pete put his feet up on the table, quietly sipping his orange juice.

“So, Dr. Wentz, any questions?” I said.

Pete chuckled, then went serious. “What was up with that phone call this morning? You sounded… scared.”

I looked at my hands and played with a loose string on the flannel I was wearing. “W-well, I just, I—um—I had a—and—“

“God, Patrick, slow down. What happened?” Pete interrupted.

I took a deep breath then started explaining. “Well, I had another dream—nightmare. It was, um, well, I got a call from Meagan and she t-told me that you ki—died. And I woke up and I wasn’t sure if it was real or not and I was freaking out and I had to make sure that it was just a dream and—“

Pete cut me off by wrapping his arms around me. “Okay, ‘Trick, that’s enough. I won’t make you go on. But believe me, I’m not going anywhere for a long time.”

I nodded into his shoulder. 

“Please don’t,” I whispered.


	35. Chapter 35

Pete P.O.V.

Two months later

Patrick has been really distant lately.

Sure, he’s always been a guy that liked to keep to himself, but he would feel comfortable telling me or the guys anything. 

After the horrible night when Patrick had that awful nightmare, I made him ask Dr. Irwin about it. He hesitated, but I ended up asking her myself. She said it’s a form of PTSD. He experienced something so horrible, something so mentally and physically scarring, that his mind is still trapped in that morning.

Lately, ever since that one night with the nightmares, he doesn’t talk much, only when necessary. I decided to go talk to him and ask him what was up. 

I drove the familiar route to his house and walked to his front door. I took a deep breath before knocking. What do I even say? 

The door creaked open and Elisa’s curly brown locks came into view. I saw worry in her deep brown eyes and I knew why.

“Hey, Pete. What’s up?” she asked, opening the door wider to let me in. 

I stepped inside and said, “Just came to talk to ‘Trick about a few things. Where is he?”

She sighed. “He’s downstairs in the music room. He’s been down there a lot lately.”

She looked sadly towards the basement, then back at me. “Pete, please help him. He hasn’t been himself lately. And I think I know why,” she said, leading me to the couch.

We sat down on the edge of the couch and I asked, “What do you think?”

“Well, he can’t play guitar again yet. I think making music is what kept him grounded in the past, and now he can’t. Without writing, he doesn’t have an outlet. Pete, he’s not eating. He needs help,” she said, her voice breaking near the end.

I patted her shoulder. “I promise, I’ll help him.”

I stood up and walked to the stairs leading down to the music room. I heard several broken strums of an acoustic guitar, followed by curses.

I descended the stairs and found Patrick sitting on a stool, his black acoustic in hand with his back to me. His discolored hand was trying to play a chord progression on the fret board. He tried changing from an Em to C, but his hand was sluggish and it took several seconds for his fingers to catch up to what his brain was telling them to do. 

“Dammit,” his whispered to himself, hitting the strings at the base of the guitar. I cleared my throat to get his attention and he turned around. Upon seeing me, he stood up and set the guitar in the stand. 

“Hey, dude, how’s it going?” he asked.

“Not bad for me, but you seem to be having a little trouble. What’s going on?” I asked.

He sighed and showed me his bad arm. “Finally got this thing working, but I can’t fucking play. I just… All I’m good at is music. Without that, I’m just Patrick,” he said sadly.

“Hey, ‘Trick,” I said, placing my hands on his shoulders, “A fucking shark could rip your arm off, hell, your throat could get ripped out by rabid dog, and you would still have music. That is something that will never leave you. You’re Patrick fucking Stump. You’re made of melodies and bass lines. You’ll always have music, man. I can guarantee that.”

He smiled sadly. “Sure, dude. Thanks. But you can give all the inspirational speeches in the world, that doesn’t mean you can make my arm work.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry, man. Damn, you saved us from dying in a fire. You don’t deserve this,” I said pulling him into a hug.

He chuckled sadly and hugged back, both of his arms wrapping around me for the first time in a while. 

Now it was time to address the real issue. We both went upstairs and sat at the dining room table where Elisa was feeding Declan.

“So, uh, Patrick, we’ve both noticed that you… well… you haven’t been eating nearly enough lately,” I said, cutting to the chase.

His eyes widened and he looked at Elisa, who turned in his direction.

“It’s true, honey. You… you haven’t been eating a lot. You’re eating less than half as much as you did before the fire. I’m no doctor, but I know enough to be able to tell that this isn’t healthy,” Elisa said, looking him in the eye. 

I think there’s two reasons Patrick isn’t eating right. One, what Dr. Irwin said. He didn’t eat in the hospital and that made it so he couldn’t eat as much now. Also, what Elisa said. Music is Patrick’s antidepressant. He can’t do music right now, so he’s lost the will to do a lot of things. The only thing keeping him above water is Elisa.

Patrick shrunk into his chair. “What? Guys, I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with the way I eat. It’s just… I’m still getting better from the fire. You have nothing to worry about,” he said.

I shook my head. “Come with me,” I said, pulling him out of his chair. He stumbled behind me and I pulled him into his and Elisa’s bedroom, where there was a full length mirror next to the closet. 

I tugged my shirt off and Patrick raised an eyebrow. 

“You’d call me a healthy looking guy, right?” I asked. 

Patrick nodded. “Yeah, sure. But what does th—“

“Now take off your shirt,” I said. Patrick looked at me like, confused and a little scared. He’s always been self-conscious, especially when it comes to taking his shirt off.

“No, Pete, what the fuck?” he said, wrapping his arms around his concave stomach.

“Trust me, ‘Trick.”

He started at me for a moment before taking a deep breath and pulling his shirt over his head. 

Oh, fuck.

His ribs stuck out even more than last time, if that was even possible. His hip bones looked like they wanted to break through, like they were angry at being covered by the thin layer of skin. He had faint scars on his stomach from scratching at it all those night ago.

“God,” I whispered under my breath. Patrick must’ve heard because he wrapped his skinny, frail arms around his torso again. 

I pulled him in front of the mirror. “Patrick, look at yourself and look at me. If I’m healthy, what are you?” I asked.

Patrick scanned both our bodies and put his arms by his sides. He cocked his head to the side.

“I… I guess, I mean… I know I’m not healthy looking,” he said quietly.

I nodded. “So that means…?” I left the answer to him.

“I need to eat more, I know,” he whispered, a little ashamed to admit I was right.

I grabbed our shirts off the bed and threw his toward him. 

“So, whaddya say? Want to get the guys together sometime soon and have a cook-out?” I questioned.

He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

I chuckled. “Alright, I’ll call them tonight. You go get something to eat,” I said.

He sighed and began to leave the room, but stopped and looked at me before he exited the door. “Pete, you know, it’s not like I’m not trying to eat. I just eat when I’m hungry, which isn’t very often nowadays. I’m not trying to be unhealthy,” he explained.

“I get that, I believe you dude. Right now, our main focus is getting you better,” I said, flashing a cheeky grin.

He nodded and walked away. I’m going to get him better. I know I will.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so like... yikes

One year later.

Patrick P.O.V.

I took a deep breath as I pulled my white Stump-O-Magic over my neck. I could hear the excited chatter of fans, specific screams and shouts like "Patrick, we miss you!" overcoming all the others. It was dark, so I could only see the outlines of my fellow band ages nervously pacing, as this was our first show in a year and a half. I held my guitar pick in between my teeth as a made sure my instrument was tuned correctly. I ran over lyrics in my head. God, I'm a nervous wreck. 

Apparently, it was obvious that my heart was racing. The familiar silhouette of Pete Wentz walked up to me. His heavy bass was swinging about his waist, the strap around his shoulders. He put his hands on my shoulders. "Whatcha thinking, little man?"

I shrugged. "Exactly what you think I'm thinking. I'm really nervous. What if I forget the lyrics? What if I play the new song wrong and my hand can't keep up? I should have practiced more. I-"

Pete cut me off. "Bruh, chill. We've rehearsed hundreds of times. You know what you're doing. We all have full faith that you can pull this off. I believe in you, 'Trick."

I nodded. I heard the voice of our manager surround us. The loudspeakers boomed as the house lights dimmed. "Ladies and gentlemen, youngbloods alike, please welcome, for the first time in 18 months, Fall Out Boy!" 

The crowd erupted in applause and screaming. I walked on stage as the opening trumpets sounded for our new song 'Irresistible'. I gripped my guitar tight with both hands. God, they could probably hear my heartbeat through the microphone. 

The crowd was going absolutely insane. I spotted a girl in the first row already in tears. I couldn't hear anything over the trumpets and screams, but I saw her mouth, 'I love you'.

I smiled at her. She screamed again. I missed this. I felt nothing but love at that moment. This is where I belong. 

I looked to the side of the stage and saw Elisa. She was smiling and holding Declan's hand. Declan has big earmuffs on to protect his ears from the booming noises. They looked happy as can be. Elisa rubbed her pregnant belly and blew a kiss at me. 

I raised my fist. The fist that had given me so much trouble. The crowd went nuts. These people genuinely felt for me. They were ecstatic that I was here. They still loved us.

In that moment, I realized, our music is burning in the hearts of our fans. It is not a match that will dwindle after a couple seconds and a breeze. We are a strong, roaring fire. We will not be taken down by a simple breeze. We will burn forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok party people, does anyone even care about this fic anymore. i feel so bad for not updating in like,, a year. I reciprocate, yikes. I just didn't have the time or motivation to write for this anymore. Lately, it's been bothering me that I just left this unfinished. So I came back, read the ENIRE THING, and wrote this lil ditty. It's not the best, but not I know that I finished what is probably the most successful thing I've ever done.   
> Thank you guys so much for reading. You people who supported this are my world. Even if I don't listen to fob that much anymore, I always know that I can count on the fandom. I was rereading all of your comments in previous chapters and got really giggly bc y'all are so sweet.   
> Once again, I apologize for not updating on literally a year. (Wow last time I updated, trump wasn't in charge of literally EVERYTHING, good times). When I started writing this fic, I was bored in freshman biology and now I'm preparing to take the SAT. I've changed a lot, but I know that the fob fandom has a special place in my heart. I love you all and am so grateful that you've read my story. Much love <3


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